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WAS REACHED 




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0 he seized a great brush, as big as a church steeple, 
dipped it into the red and golden sunset light and 
wrote in big letters high on the sky. [p. 23] 


THE CITY THAT NEVER 
WAS REACHED 

AND OTHER STORIES FOR CHILDREN 


JAY T. STOCKING 

U 



THE PILGRIM PRESS 

BOSTON NEW TOEK CHICAGO 


Copyright, 1911 
By Lutheb H. Cart 


Published August, 1911 



TOB • PLIMPTOM • PRBSS 
[w • D» o] 

NORWOOD • MASS • O • 8 • A 



©CUiin,')44E 


TO THE 


BOYS AND GIRLS 

WHO HAVE HEARD THESE STORIES 
THIS BOOK 
IS DEDICATED 


CONTENTS 

The Visit of the Wishing Man .... 1 

The Winds, the Birds, and the Telegraph 

Wires 21 

Hans Wagner and the Angel who Kept his 

Word 37 

Query Queer and the Flowers .... 57 

The Golden Horse and His Rider ... 71 

The Shepherd Who Didn’t Go .... 87 

The House of Beautiful Days .... 101 

How THE Bluebird was Chosen Herald. . 119 

The City that Never was Reached . . . 139 







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The Visit of the 
IVishing Man 

T was Christmas night at 
Castle Havenough in the Land 
of Nothing Strange. It had 
been a day of gifts and guests, 
and now the King and Queen 
had gone to a great dinner in 
the banquet-hall, and the young prince and 
princess were left alone to spend the rest of 
the day as they chose. A great fire blazed in 
the fireplace. It cracked and roared and 
chuckled as the young prince and princess 
threw in pitchy sprays of evergreen. The 
Christmas tree across the room, bespangled 
with tinsel and tassels and sheen, now glowed 
in the light of the fireplace and gleamed and 
twinkled and sparkled as if every twig were 
set with rubies and diamonds. The floor, the 
chairs, the table — everything — were heaped 
high with gifts, for this young prince and 
princess had received everything that they 



4 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


had wished for. And it was almost always 
so, — whatever they wished for, they re- 
ceived. It seems strange to us, indeed, that 
this young prince and princess were not always 
or altogether happy. But it was not strange 
at all in the Land of Nothing Strange. 

Before the King went out to the great ban- 
quet, he called the prince and princess to his 
side and, putting his arms about their slender 
shoulders, said, “My children, I hope you 
have had a happy day. and have received 
everything that you desire. If not, I prom- 
ise you that if you can agree exactly on what 
you wish and will tell me, if money can pur- 
chase it, it shall be yours.” 

“But cannot money purchase everything, 
father 

“No, my son, not quite everything.” 

“But if money cannot purchase it, father.^” 

“Then, princess, I will try and get it for 
you in some other way.” 

“And if you cannot.^” 

“Well — then I will tell the Wishing Man.” 

And with that he was off. But not until 
he had told them that since this was Christ- 
mas Day they might stay up just as late as 
they wishedt 


THE VISIT OF THE WISHING MAN 5 


Just as late as they wished! Why, this was 
the very best Christmas gift of all! Because 
not even princes and princesses, you know, 
can sit up always, or often, just as late as 
they wish. 

Just as late as they wished! What in the 
world would they do.^^ Why, everything, of 
course, in all that time. But first of all they 
must decide whether there was anything more 
that they wished and whether they could 
agree upon their wish. So they threw them- 
selves upon the fioor at full length before the 
fire, upon the great white bearskin with the 
head that snarled and showed his long, gleam- 
ing, harmless teeth as if he would eat just one 
more thing. With their chins resting upon 
their hands, and their elbows on the fioor, 
and the fire throwing lights and shadows on 
their faces, they lay and talked. 

“You wish first,” said the prince, who had 
not quite made up his mind what he wished, 
and wanted time to think. “You are the 
younger, and you are a girl. What do you 
wish.^” 

“Well, I wish that all the snow were sugar 
and all the mud were chocolate. Don’t you? ” 

“No, of course not. Why, you couldn’t 


6 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


coast! The runners would stick, and if you 
ran and fell upon your sled you would go 
heels over head and like as not you would 
break your neck. Besides, there wouldn’t 
be any sugar in summer, and there would be 
no chocolate except when it rained.” 

‘T never thought of that,” said the prin- 
cess. “What do you wish.?” 

“I wish that — that — my Christmas stock- 
ing were as tall as this house and I had to take 
a ladder to get up to it and another ladder to 
get down into it. Don’t you.?” 

“Why, no, of course not.” 

“Why not.?” 

“Why, because the Christmas stocking is 
just the same size as all your other stockings, 
and if your Christmas stocking were as big as 
the house, all your other stockings would be 
as big as the house, and you never could get 
one on; and if you did get it on it would go 
clear over your head.” 

“That’s so,” said the prince, “I never 
thought of that. Well, what do you wish?” 

“Well, I wish — that every day was Christ- 
mas and there wasn’t any school. Don’t 
you?” 

“No! If there wasn’t any school, you’d 


THE VISIT OF THE WISHING MAN 7 


be a dunce. And who wants to be a dunce 
I’ll tell you what 1 wish.” 

“What.^^” 

“I wish that every day was just as nice 
as Christmas, but different. Different, you 
know, but just as nice. That’s what I wish.” 

‘‘So do I.” 

And so they agreed upon their wish, — ^ 
that every day should be like Christmas — 
different, but just as nice. And they would 
tell that wish to their father in the morning. 

“But do you suppose that money can pur- 
chase it, prince.^” 

“I don’t know. I — I’m afraid it can’t. 
But father said he would tell the Wishing 
Man. I wonder what he looks like; I should 
like to see him.” 

“So should I.” 

Just then there was a commotion in the 
fireplace. It sounded as if the wood had 
fallen forward on the andirons. And so it 
had. But something else had happened. On 
the backlog, which was blazing fiercely, there 
sat a funnier little man than you would see in 
going around the world. He was red from 
the top of his cap to the tip of his boot; his 
coat, which was flung over his little red wings. 


8 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


was red. His face was red, but perhaps that 
was just a reflection from the coals of the Are. 
You would think that he would have burned 
up or that he would have jumped out of the 
fireplace in a hurry. But he didn’t do any- 
thing of the sort. It seems very strange, but 
it was not strange at all in the Land of Noth- 
ing Strange. As he sat there upon that 
blazing backlog, his hands upon his knees, 
with the flames leaping around him, and his 
feet resting down in the red hot coals, you 
would have said that this was the most com- 
fortable seat that he had ever found in all 
his life. 

“Well.f^” the little man drawled. 

‘‘Well.^” drawled the prince and princess, 
as they drew back on their elbows and sat up 
in amazement. 

“Well.^> I’m here.” 

‘‘Who’s here?” asked the prince. 

“Why, I am here. You said you would 
like to see what I looked like, and so I have 
come. 7’m here.” 

“Are you the Wishing Man?” asked the 
princess. 

“That’s my name.” And then he broke 
into a snatch of a song: 


THE VISIT OF THE WISHING MAN 9 

“/ have wish-bones on my fingers, 

I have mystWy in my eyes; 

My clothes are lined with four -leaf clovers 
And are stained with magic dyes. 

I have pockets full of rabbits^ feet 
And amulets and charms; 

J ust for luck I pick up horseshoes, 

I have tattoos on my arms. 

I know a world of wonders. 

And if you would believe, 

I have fortunes in my wallet 
And surprises up my sleeve. 

I come from a distant country. 

Away up near the sky, 

From the golden palace. Overhead, 

In the land of Wonder Why. 

Fm the best of friends of children. 

And ril help you if I can; 

Now tell me what your wishes are. 

For Fm the Wishing Man.** 

They told him that they had decided to 
wish that every day should be just as nice 
as Christmas — different, but, then, just as 
nice. 

"‘That is a good wish,” said the Wishing 
Man. “I hope that you will get it, but you 
never can tell.” 


10 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


“You never can tell! Aren’t you the Wish- 
ing Man? Don’t you know? Don’t you 
give folks their wishes?” 

“Oh, no! I am not wise enough for that. 
The Angel of Blessings does that. I merely 
go through the world and carry to him all 
the wishes that I hear people make.” 

“How do you carry them?” asked the 
prince. 

“Oh, right here,” and he pointed to a little 
jeweled box that he had at his belt. “Right 
here. You see I have a padlock on it and I 
never lose a wish.” 

“Are you the only wishing man in the 
world?” asked the princess. 

“Oh, bless my soul, no! If I were, do you 
think I would have time to sit here on this 
nice cool seat and chat with you? There are 
a great many of us, but we all look just alike, 
we are all dressed just alike, and we are all 
twins.” 

That seems strange, but it was not strange 
at all in the Land of Nothing Strange. 

“My country is the country of Nothing 
Strange. I come here every morning, and I 
stay till I have my little box full of wishes, 
and then I take it back. By the way, I see 


THE VISIT OF THE WISHING MAN 11 

that it is full now, and your wish is right on 
top. Would you like to go with me to see 
the Angel of Blessings? Those who talk with 
him are most apt to have their wishes granted. 
Many folks do not get their wishes just be- 
cause they do not seem to understand how to 
get them. Would you like to go with me?” 

“ Is it very far? ” asked the prince. “ Could 
we get back before bedtime?” 

“Oh, yes, with time to spare.” 

“Shouldn’t we be cold?” asked the princess. 

“No, we would fly very fast and we 
shouldn’t have time to shiver more than once 
before we got there. Come, then, get on my 
back,” and he tucked his red coat between 
his little red wings which he shook out, and 
made ready to fly. 

“Now part your hair in the middle so you 
won’t be any heavier on one side than on the 
other. Step right in here, the Are won’t hurt 
you. Now, Prince, put your right arm around 
my neck like this, and hold on to my left wing 
with your left hand, — so, and Princess, put 
your left arm around my neck and hold on 
to my right wing with your right hand, — so. 
Now, ready.” 

Up they went, and off they went, through 


12 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

the frosty air, faster than the fastest aero- 
plane. Below them lay the beautiful white 
snow; above them hung the beautiful white 
stars. They had just shivered once and were 
nearly ready to shiver again when the Wish- 
ing Man folded his red wings and they landed 
upon the doorstep of the golden palace. Over- 
head, in the Land of Wonder Why. 

The Wishing Man took them by the hand, 
one on either side, walked up the white marble 
steps, opened the great doors, which swung 
at a touch, and stepped inside. This was the 
palace. Overhead. Anybody could see that 
this was the House of Wishes. Why, there 
was everything here that anybody had ever 
wished for or ever could wish for. Down the 
side here at the right there were great posses- 
sions. There were car-loads of gold heaped 
up, and car-loads of silver heaped up, and 
there were houses — every kind of house — 
and there were farms that reached away just 
as far as the sun shone, and there were gar- 
dens in which there was every kind of flower 
that anybody had ever seen grow in any 
place in the world. Over on the other side 
were things to wear and things to eat; there 
were gowns and furs and hats and suits, and 


THE VISIT OF THE WISHING MAN 13 

beyond these there were bricks of ice-cream 
as big as ice cakes, — just for one ! And plum 
puddings as big as your head, — just for one ! 
And whole mince pies that you could eat and 
never see anything afterward. Before them, 
across the room, were the very best things of 
life, the very best of all, just plain something 
to eat, happy days and sleepy nights, and 
good friends, just the things that men like 
most. These things that I have mentioned 
were simply what you could see right in the 
first rows, but behind these things at the 
right and left and over in front, — there is 
nobody who ever lived who could tell you all 
that was there, because, as I have told you, 
there was everything that anybody had ever 
wished for, and everything that anybody could 
ever wish for. 

Now, right in the center of the hall, to 
which a golden carpet ran, there was a plat- 
form, and upon the platform a great white 
desk, bright as the moon, and at the desk, 
clothed in white, sat the Angel of Blessings. 
At the right of the Angel of Blessings stood 
his messengers. He called them pages. The 
line was sometimes short and sometimes long. 
They wore no uniform. Some were rich and 


14 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


some were poor, some had beautiful clothes 
and some had ragged clothes, but the face of 
every one shone like a star, and it was their 
duty to carry blessings and wishes to people 
who had got their wish. 

Upon that golden carpet, that ran from the 
door to the platform, the little red Wishing 
Men were continually passing each other as 
they came up to the desk to leave their wishes 
and went out again to listen for more. All 
day, all night, they came and went, came and 
went, and all day and all night the Angel of 
Blessings, clad in white, at the great white 
desk, opened the wishes and read them. 
Sometimes he shook his head sorrowfully, 
and even frowned; sometimes he smiled and 
nodded! When he frowned or looked sor- 
rowful it meant that the wish was lost, and 
he dropped it into the huge waste-basket at 
his left and it fell to the bottom of the earth. 
But when he smiled and nodded, it meant 
that the wish was granted, and he handed it 
to one of his pages waiting at the right, who 
fell upon one knee, took the wish, and carried 
it to the wisher. 

The Wishing Man took the prince and the 
princess by the hand, walked along the golden 


THE VISIT OF THE WISHING MAN 15 

carpet to the great white desk upon the 
platform, and announced the visitors to the 
Angel of Blessings: “Prince and Princess 
Havenough from the Land of Nothing 
Strange.” Then the prince and princess, 
who, of course, had been trained in court, 
made their most beautiful bow, but spoke 
no word until the Angel of Blessings had 
spoken to them. The Wishing Man laid 
upon the desk the wish which they had 
made and which he had carried in his little 
golden casket, and then he retired with 
many a bow until the Angel should sum- 
mon him again. 

“Prince and Princess Havenough,” said 
the Angel as he read the wish and smiled, 
“it is a good wish. It will be granted, on 
one condition — that you will be my pages, 
carry my blessings, and take the wishes 
which I send to those who have their wishes 
granted. Will you be my pages.^^” 

“Must one go very far, Mr. Angel .^” asked 
the prince, “because we are small; we have 
never traveled far; we don’t know where 
many places are.” 

“Oh, not at all. Prince,” said the Angel; 
“merely to the Land of Nothing Strange — to 


16 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


your home, to your friends, to your acquaint- 
ances. Will you be my pages.^” 

“We will, Mr. Angel,” and they bowed. 

“Then stand here at my right. I may have 
some commissions for you now. Let me look 
at these wishes which have just been brought 
to me. Here is a wish from a little boy in 
the Land of Nothing Strange, not far from 
Castle Havenough. He wishes that he had a 
pair of skates; he hasn’t any; all his friends 
have some.” 

“He may have a pair of mine,” said the 
prince; “I will take them to him.” 

“Good!” said the Angel; “his wish is 
granted.” And he handed the wish to the 
prince with the name and the address of the 
wisher. 

“Let me see; here is a wish from a little 
girl in the Land of Nothing Strange, not far 
from Castle Havenough. She wishes that she 
had a doll. She asked Santa Claus for one 
last night and he didn’t bring it today. He 
must have forgotten it. She wants one very 
much.” 

“She may have one of mine! I have 
many,” said the princess. 

“Good!” said the Angel; “it is granted.” 


THE VISIT OF THE WISHING MAN 17 

And he handed the wish to the princess, with 
the name and the address of the wisher. 

“Here is another,” said the Angel. “It is 
from the teachers and the servants of (fastle 
Havenough. They wish that they were hap- 
pier, — that the prince and the princess were 
somewhat more thoughtful and kind. Shall 
their wish be granted.^” 

“We will try, Mr. Angel.” 

“Good! And here is one from the royal 
house. I see the seal. Why, it is from the 
King and Queen of the Land of Nothing 
Strange. ‘We wish that our son and daugh- 
ter were more dutiful, thoughtful, loving, and 
kind.’ Shall the wish be granted, pages?” 

“We will try, Mr. Angel.” 

“Good! That is enough for tonight. To- 
morrow I shall have some more blessings for 
you to carry. Every day I will send you 
some, so long as you are in my service. 
And I promise you that every day will be as 
happy as Christmas, — different but just as 
nice. Wait a minute.” And then he wrote 
something on a card and handed it to them, 
— he called it their 


18 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

COMMISSION 

**Be it known to all those who may read this short line. 
That the 'prince and the princess are pages of mine; 
Thef carry my blessings, will seek what you wish, 
Will be kind and regardful, polite, unselfish. 

For wages, I now and hereafter decree. 

Their days shall be happy as happy can be.** 

Then he pressed a little golden button, and 
the Wishing Man came and took the prince 
and princess by the hand and led them down 
the golden carpet to the great door, and in 
less time than it takes to tell you they were 
back again, and down again upon the skin of 
the great white bear, which still lay snarling 
and showing his teeth at the flickering fire. 

The Wishing Man wanted to be off, but the 
prince and princess asked him so eagerly to 
sing again that he finally consented to sing 
what he had sung before, — “Just by way of 
encore,” he said: 

have wish-bones on my fingers, 

I have mysVry in my eyes; 

My clothes are lined with four-leaf clovers 
And are stained with magic dyes. 

I have pockets full of rabbits* feet. 

And amulets and charms; 

Just for luck I pick up horseshoes, 

I have tattoos on my arms. 


THE VISIT OF THE WISHING MAN 19 

I know a world of wonders. 

And if you would believe, 

I have fortunes in my wallet 
And surprises up my sleeve, 

I come from a distant country. 

Away up near the shy. 

From the golden palace. Overhead, 

In the land of Wonder Why. 

Fm the best of friends of children. 

And ril help you if I can; 

Now tell me what your wishes are. 

For Fm the Wishing Man.'* 

And then he was gone. 

It may be that it was a very long, tiresome 
journey to the palace; it may be that the cold 
had made the prince and princess very sleepy ; 
it may have been due to something else. At 
any rate, when the servants came at ten 
o’clock and opened the door softly, the prince 
and princess lay fast asleep before the fire, 
which was burning very low, and the clock 
was tick-tock, tick-tocking very loud indeed. 

What the prince and princess told the King 
in the morning, how long they were pages of 
the Angel of Blessings, how many people they 
carried blessings to, I cannot tell; I never 
heard. But this I know: that night, and for 


20 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

many days after, the servants and the teach- 
ers said that it seemed to them the prince 
and princess were kinder than usual, and 
the King and the Queen not long after were 
heard to say they never in their lives had 
seen the prince and princess so loving and so 
happy. 


The Winds^ the Birds, and the 
Telegraph W^ires 


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M^inds^ Birds^ and 
Telegraph Moires 



ONG, long ago, a hundred 
times as long as any one can 
remember, the Great Earth 
King became so very, very 
busy about a great many 
things that there were several 
things that he could not do. So he sat him- 
self down and rested his great head upon his 
hand, and thought, and thought, and thought 
until he decided that he must have some as- 
sistance. He would advertise for some mes- 
sengers! So he seized a great brush, as big 
as a church steeple, dipped it into the red 
and golden sunset light, and wrote in big 
letters high on the sky, that every one far 
and near could read: 


Wanted ! Messengers ! 
Fleeter Than Horses, 
Swifter Than Men, 

To Carry My Messages, 
A Million Times Ten. 

23 


24 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

and he signed it simply, “The Earth King.” 
Then he went into his rainbow house and laid 
himself down to sleep on his rainbow bed. 

He had scarcely fallen asleep when there 
came a rustle, rustle, rustle at the rainbow win- 
dow, and a rattle, rattle, rattle at the rainbow 
door. He sprang quickly from his great bed. 

“Who be ye?” he asked. 

“We be messengers,” came the reply, 
“come to serve the King.” 

Then the King opened the door. There 
before him stood four of the strangest crea- 
tures that he had ever seen. They were so 
light that they could stand on nothing; they 
had great wide wings; they had pale faces and 
gleaming eyes; and they had light garments 
that floated and flapped and fluttered in the 
breeze. 

“What are your names?” asked the King. 

“We are the Winds,” answered the might- 
iest of the four, “East Wind, West Wind, 
South Wind, North Wind,” pointing to each 
in turn, himself last. “We have come — 

Fleeter than horses, swifter than men. 

To carry your messages, a million times ten,*^ 

Then the Ejng spoke to them in deep and 


WINDS, BIRDS, TELEGRAPH WIRES 25 

solemn tone: “The task is a great one. The 
King’s business is grave and important. 
My messengers must be swift and faithful. 
Are ye able.^” 

Then the four winds piously crossed their 
breasts with their wings and whispered, “Try 
us and see, try us and see, try us and see.” 

So the King tried them. 

“Down by the sea,” said the King, “far 
over the mountains, many hours away, there 
lives a fisher folk that I love. Every day the 
men of the village go forth in their little boats 
to fish, and every evening they come home 
with their catch. But of late thick and heavy 
clouds have hung about them. They have 
not dared go forth lest they should not reach 
home again, and their families begin to be in 
want. Go to them today. Drive away the 
fog and clouds that the people may be happy 
again. Quick! away!” 

Then the four winds lifted their swift, beau- 
tiful wings and were gone. Faster and faster 
they fiew till none could tell how fast they 
flew. Over the meadows they went and over 
the mountains. Each tried to out-wing the 
others until it became a fierce and careless 
game. So blind and careless were they in 


26 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

their sport that they did not notice how they 
whirled the sand, and broke the trees, and 
tossed the water. Swiftly through the fish- 
ing village they tore, hurling its poor houses 
to the ground and crashing, dashing, slashing, 
smashing the waves upon the fallen wrecks 
and the frightened and suffering folk. 

Not until they were weary with their furi- 
ous sport did they remember the errand 
on which the King had sent them. They 
retraced their steps as quickly as they could, 
but alas! to their shame and grief, the vil- 
lage lay in ruins and the people wept for 
their loss. 

Then the Earth King was very sad and 
angry. He brought the shameful winds be- 
fore his court. “False and faithless winds,” 
he said, in stern and awful voice, “ye did not 
do my errand; ye were traitors to your trust; 
great shall be your punishment. Nevermore 
shall ye be my messengers, evermore shall ye 
be my slaves. Away from my sight!” 

Then the faithless winds departed from be- 
fore the face of the King, and in shame and 
sorrow went moaning among the caves and 
the] rocks by the seaside, and sighing among 
the lonely pine trees in the wilderness, and 


WINDS, BIRDS, TELEGRAPH WIRES 27 

even to this day you may hear the echoes of 
their moans and sighs. 

The Earth King was sorrowful, but not 
discouraged. Again he seized the great paint 
brush, as big as a church steeple, dipped 
it into the red and golden sunset light, and 
wrote in big letters high on the sky that every 
one far and near could read: 

WANTED! MESSENGERS! 

FLEETER THAN HORSES, 

SWIFTER THAN MEN, 

TO CARRY MY MESSAGES, 

A MILLION TIMES TEN. 

Then he went into his rainbow house and 
laid himself down on his rainbow bed. He 
scarcely had taken forty winks when he 
heard a rat-tat-tatting on the rainbow win- 
dow and a rap-rap-rapping on the rainbow 
door. Quickly he leaped from his great bed. 

“Who be ye?'’ he asked. 

“We be messengers,” came a gentle voice 
through the keyhole, “come to serve the 
King.” 

Then he opened the door, and there before 
him flitted and twittered a company of the 
most curious little people that he ever had 
set eyes upon. They had each a pair of beady 


28 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

eyes, a little pointed nose, a set of little 
scratchy toes, and the softest kind of a coat, 
fitting as snug as ever the tailor could make it. 

“What are your names.^” asked the King. 

“We are the birds, and our names are 
many. We saw the King’s sign in the sky 
and have come — 

Fleeter than horses, swifter than men. 

To carry your messages, a million times ten.** 

Then the King, remembering the Winds, 
addressed them in very deep and solemn 
tones: “The task is a great one. The 
King’s business is exceeding grave and im- 
portant. My messengers must be swift and 
faithful, must remember my commands and 
keep my secrets. Are ye able.^” 

Each bird laid his little scratchy toes on his 
little pointed nose and vowed that he would 
remember the King’s commands and keep the 
King’s secrets. 

“Then,” said the King, “make ready. Far 
to the north dwells a people that I love. 
For many a month they have lived amid ice 
and snow and the bitter frosts. Now they 
sigh for warmer days, and I have heard them. 
I am planning a delightful surprise for them. 
I am going to carry spring to them. Go, 


WINDS, BIRDS, TELEGRAPH WIRES 29 

find the warm sunshine and the soft south 
wind and bid them come at once to the King’s 
court, that I may take them and the spring 
days to my suffering and discouraged people. 
Then return with all speed to the King, and 
remember, — do not betray my secret.” 

The bird-messengers hastened away as fast 
as ever their wings could carry them. They 
summoned the warm sunshine and the soft 
south wind and bade them make haste to the 
Earth King. They, of course, turned back as 
they were commanded, but before they reached 
home again, each one of them was seized with 
a strange, restless, uneasy feeling right in the 
middle of his feathers. It must have been the 
secret trying to get out. One by one they stole 
past the King’s house under cover of the night 
and made their way to the north country. 
And when the morning came, there they were, 
sitting on the fence posts and in the apple 
trees, just bursting with the happy secret of 
the King. 

Then the robin pipped^ and the bluebird blew; 

The sparrow chipped^ and the swallow, too: 

“ We know something, — we wonH tell, — 

Somebody's coming, — you know well. 

This is his name {'twixt you and me), 
S-P-R-I-N-G." 


so CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


The people were very happy when they 
heard what the birds said, and with much 
excitement began to get ready for the spring- 
time. 

Now, of course, the King knew nothing 
about all this, and was very happy in thinking 
of the surprise that he was to give the people. 
He took the warm sunshine and the soft 
south wind for companions, and made his 
way in all haste to the land of ice and snow. 
As he arrived, with his delightful secret, as he 
thought, hidden in his heart, he was amazed 
to find an old woman sitting in her doorway 
knitting. 

"‘Why are you sitting here.^” he asked. 
“ Why are you not within, warming your feet 
by the fire 

“Why, don’t you know.^” she said, “spring 
is coming!” 

“Spring.^” he asked, almost roughly; “how 
do you know.^” 

“Oh,” said she with a smile, trying not to 
look at a robin that turned his back behind 
the picket fence, hoping that if the King saw 
him he might think he was an English spar- 
row, “a little bird told me.” 

The King walked up the street, looking 


WINDS, BIRDS, TELEGRAPH WIRES 31 

gloomy enough, and soon came across a 
gardener with his rake, uncovering the cro- 
cuses and the daffodils. 

‘‘Why do you do this, my good man.^ 
Surely your flowers will freeze. You had 
much better be covering them up.” 

“Oh, no,” he said, straightening his bent 
back, “spring is coming.” 

“Spring,” said the King; “how do you 
know?” 

“Oh,” said the gardener, with a grin, and 
a twinkle in his left eye, as he caught sight 
of a bluebird peeking half-scared around the 
limb of a near-by apple tree, “a little bird 
told me.” 

Then the disgraceful story all came out: 
that 

The robin pipped^ and the bluebird blew; 

The sparrow chipped, and the swallow, too: 

“ We know something, — we won't tell, — 

Somebody's coming, — you know well. 

This is his name {'twixt you and me), 
S-P-R-I-N-G." 

My! but wasn’t the Earth King disgusted! 
And weren’t the bird-messengers ashamed to 
come when he sternly called them ! Each laid 
his little pointed nose on his little scratchy 


32 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

toes, and dropped his eyes and uttered never 
a word. 

“Silly birds,” he said in scornful voice. 
“You vowed to keep my secrets. You have 
broken your vow. You obeyed my commands 
and called the south wind and the sunshine; 
so I cannot be too harsh with you. But you 
cannot keep my secrets, so I cannot keep you 
as my messengers. Now and then I may use 
you as my servants. Adieu!” 

Then the birds flew sadly away as quietly 
and quickly as ever they could, and set to 
work building their nests in holes in the trees 
and holes in the ground and in out-of-the-way 
places, making such a chattering meantime 
that neither they, nor any one else, could 
hear themselves think. 

By this time the Earth King was nearly 
discouraged. He did not know what in the 
world to do. He rested his elbow on his knee 
and his great head in his hand and thought 
and wondered. Then once again he rose and 
took the great brush and wrote the same big 
words on the sky. And for very weariness 
he lay down on a great bank of clouds and 
soon was sound asleep. As he slept, the 
cloud grew bigger and bigger and blacker 


WINDS, BIRDS, TELEGRAPH WIRES S3 

and blacker, and the thunder came nearer 
and nearer until, all at once, CRASH-CRASH 
— the cloud seemed torn to pieces and the 
King leaped to his feet half-scared to death, 
even if he was a King. There before him, 
darting this way and that way, and up and 
down, and across-ways, was a swarm of little 
red-hot creatures that hissed and buzzed and 
cracked like the Fourth of July. 

“Who are you.^’’ he asked in half-fright as 
he rubbed his eyes, “and what do you want?” 

“Messengers, messengers, messengers,” 
whispered they all at once, “and we have 
come to serve the King.” 

“What are your names?” 

“We are the Lightning Spirits; sometimes 
men call us Electricity, — 

The swiftest creatures that are known to men^ 

To carry your messages, a million times ten^ 

The King charged them gravely and sol- 
emnly, as he had done the winds and the 
birds before them, that his messengers must 
be true and faithful and must keep his secrets. 
But no matter how great the task nor how 
heavy the oaths with which he bound them 
to be faithful, they were eager, all of them, 
to serve the King. Only he must build road- 


34 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

ways for them. They had not wings to fly, 
and their feet were not accustomed to the 
highways of the land. They might lose their 
way. So the King decided to try them. He 
called his laborers and ordered them to erect 
tall poles, and from pole to pole to lay slender 
roadways of wire. Miles and miles of these 
roadways he built, over the hills and through 
the valleys. And when all was complete, he 
called the spirits to him and whispered to 
them his secret messages. Quick as thought 
they ran over the little roadways, hither and 
thither, and back again, doing faithfully and 
well the King’s errands and keeping the King’s 
secrets. They whispered never so much as a 
word of them. So the Earth King called a 
great assembly, and before them all appointed 
the Lightning Spirits to be his trusted mes- 
sengers for ever and a day. 

Of course the winds were very jealous when 
they heard of it, and they determined to get 
revenge by stealing the messages from the 
spirits. They dashed against the wires day 
after day, trying to break them and get the 
secrets, but all to no purpose. All they could 
hear was MUM-MUM-MUM-M-M; and the 
harder they blew, the louder they heard it. 


WINDS, BIRDS, TELEGRAPH WIRES 35 

The birds had all along been sorry that 
they had given away the great secret, and 
had been hoping that the King would give 
them another chance. They were much too 
gentle to do as the winds did. But they were 
very curious to find out what the King’s mes- 
sages were. So day after day they went to 
the wires and sat upon them and snuggled 
down as close to them as they could get and 
listened hard, putting now the right ear down 
and now the left, — but all they could ever 
hear was MUM-MUM-MUM-M-M-M-M. 

And they seem never to have got over that 
habit! If you want to find out for yourself 
the truth of this tale, you go some day when 
the wind is blowing against the wires and the 
birds are sitting upon them, snuggled close, 
and put your ear to a telegraph pole and all 
you will hear is Mum-mum-mum-m-m-m. 



Hans THagner and the Angel 
who Kept his TKord 



i 


I 


( 





✓ 


I 


I 










* -4 










Hans Wagner and the 
Angel 

^3ANS WAGNER lived with his 
father, Chris Wagner. His 
father did not live anywhere 
in particular. He was a wan- 
dering street musician and 
went from city to city and 
from house to house. Years ago Hans had a 
mother and Chris, a wife. But for some 
reason she went away; why, nobody knew. 
Some said that it was because she loved money 
and a home and Chris had neither. However 
this may be, one night, as Chris came home 
from his playing, and climbed the long flight 
of creaking stairs that led to their poor little 
lodgings, his wife was gone. The child was 
alone asleep in his crib. Chris sat down by 
the crib and waited, — waited all night. And 
when morning came and the baby awoke and 
Chris felt in his heart that the mother would 
not return, he took the child in his arms and 

39 



40 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

in a voice as cheery as he could make it he 
said, “Well, Hans, you and I will go it alone. 
We’ll stick together, won’t we, Hans.^^” And 
Hans smiled up at Chris for answer. 

Chris was as good as his word. He was 
both father and mother, as far as he could be. 
Throughout the day he cared for the boy as 
tenderly as a woman could do. When eve- 
ning came he tucked him away in his crib, 
watched him until he fell asleep, then took 
up his old violin and went out into the street 
to play. From place to place he went. He 
stood on the street corners, in the restaurants, 
and when the evenings were warm, at the 
entrance to the parks and the city gardens. 
When the hour grew late and the streets 
began to look empty, he would tuck his 
instrument under his arm and hasten back 
up those creaky stairs to Hans. 

So they lived. It was not easy for Chris; 
his heart sometimes grew very heavy. But 
whenever those times came, Chris would drive 
them away by taking the boy in his arms and 
laughing bravely, “You and I will go it alone. 
We’ll stick together, won’t we, Hans.f^” And 
Hans soon learned to say: “We’ll stick to- 
gether.” 


HANS WAGNER AND THE ANGEL 41 

The time came when Hans could not so 
easily be left alone. He begged to go also. 
To all his father’s arguments he would say: 
‘‘But, remember, dad, you and I must stick 
together.” So Chris took him along, and, 
indeed, it was well that he did. For times had 
been bad of late for Chris. Skilled musicians 
were flocking to the town and the people did 
not love the old street players as much as 
once they did. Besides, the care of the 
child had worn on Chris, and people said 
that he did not play as once he played. “How 
wretched!” you could sometimes hear them 
say. Indeed, if it had not been for Hans, 
Chris and he might often have lacked for 
bread and cheese. As it was, many who would 
have passed the musician by were touched 
by the sight of the child and dropped their 
pennies into his cap. 

Soon Hans grew big enough to play. Chris 
taught him how to draw the bow. He taught 
him, too, many of the flne old German songs, 
which he had sung since he was a boy. Hans 
had a sweet clear voice and sang them beauti- 
fully, — like an angel, his father thought. 
Together, now, they were to be found upon 
the streets. Chris and Hans would play 


42 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

together, then Hans would play and sing, 
then Chris would play and Hans would hold 
out his cap. 

So the years passed by until this Christ- 
mas eve, when we find them in their lodg- 
ings on Pleasant street. Streets sometimes 
have strange names, and Pleasant Street was 
certainly a strange name for this narrow alley 
with its rows of tumble-down rickety tene- 
ments. And of all the rickety tenements, 
this one was the ricketiest, in which Chris 
and Hans had an attic room. 

And Chris was sick. The December nights 
had been cold and stormy. The bitter winds 
had whistled about the street corners, and 
Chris was thinly clad, for all that could be 
spared from their little store must go for a 
coat for Hans. So Chris trembled as he 
played. Sometimes you would hear the violin 
quaver and wonder why, until you saw that 
the shivers had crept up Chris’ back and run 
down his arm and into his bow. But for two 
days now he had not played. The fever had 
come and he was very ill; yet as he lay there 
on the wretched bed in this miserable attic 
it was not the fever that pained him most, 
for his heart was very heavy. 


HANS WAGNER AND THE ANGEL 43 

All through these years, however hard they 
had been, Chris had never failed to give Hans 
three good things. Three times every year 
he had taken him for dinner to a great res- 
taurant, where there were music, and palms, 
and bright lights, and waiters with white 
shirts and black coats, — on Hans’ birth- 
day, Chris’ birthday, and Christmas. And 
on Christmas day he always managed to have 
some little gift for the boy. But now it was 
Christmas eve, and he was sick, and there was 
scarcely money enough to pay the rent. How 
could he ever take the boy to the great res- 
taurant with its music, and palms, and lights, 
the white shirts, and the black coats As 
Chris thought of all this, his heart sank. 
This was why for two nights he had let 
Hans go out alone. How well and long 
the boy had played! But the nights had 
been bad, and the people busy, and the 
little musician had brought home but a few 
small coins. 

Now he was going out again. As he but- 
toned up his tight little jacket, he seemed so 
small that only the hope of the dinner in the 
restaurant induced Chris to let him go. 

‘"Dad,” said he, as Chris for the third time 


44 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

counted the little store of coins, “can we pay 
the rent?” 

“Yes, Hans, we have just enough.” 

“Shall we have the dinner, dad.^^” 

“I don’t know, Hans, — do you think so.^” 

“Sure. I’ll get the money tonight. It’s 
Christmas eve, you know, and folks will give. 
And I’ll do my best. I’ll sing loud, — oh ! not 
too loud, but just right, as you teach me, 
you know.” 

Hans saw the shadow that crept over his 
father’s face, and now it was his turn to catch 
up in cheeriest voice the words that he had 
heard so often from Chris these recent days, 
as he shook his finger in playful warning: 
“Be a good boy, dad. Remember, you and 
I must stick together.” 

And with his little violin under his much- 
worn sleeve he was off, down the long stairs 
and upon the street. 

How hard he worked! From street corner 
to street corner he went, wherever the crowd 
was thickest. He stood in front of the big 
stores. He waited by the theater. He played 
over and over again all the tunes he knew. 
He sang twice and three times all the songs 
he had ever learned, sang until his throat 


HANS WAGNER AND THE ANGEL 45 

would sing no more. But the crowd was too 
busy, it was intent on other things. The 
happy shoppers passed him by with scarcely 
a look; now and then one dropped a penny. 
He played until the streets grew still and he 
could hear the policeman’s footsteps, then he 
turned toward Pleasant Street, climbed the 
old steps to the attic where Chris lay waiting 
for him, and in his eager hands laid the 
results of the evening’s work. And though 
each one knew that there was not enough for 
a big dinner tomorrow, neither said a word. 

Hans threw himself heavily upon the cot 
beside Chris and soon was fast asleep. 

Now a strange thing happened. 

Hans was always an imaginative boy. 
Even in his waking hours he could see strange 
new things that others did not see. But 
when he was asleep he saw still more wonder- 
ful things. He told Chris about them. Chris 
did not see them, and sometimes he wondered 
whether Hans did. But Hans surely did, — 
he said he did. 

Once as he lay there on his cot a great 
white bird, bigger than any bird he had ever 
seen, with a beautiful blue neck and silver 
wings, came and sat on his bed-post, and 


46 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

Hans got on his back and the bird flew up 
and up and up among the stars until Hans 
saw a great city among the moonbeams. 
Then the bird brought him back again to his 
bed. He did! certainly! Hans says he did. 

And once a golden automobile came to his 
house, right there on Pleasant Street, and he 
got in and the chauffeur drove him miles and 
miles over silver streets until they came to 
the most glorious garden that he had ever 
seen even in picture-books, where there were 
roses and daffodils and chrysanthemums and 
everything else. And he picked his arms full 
of all kinds of flowers and filled the automo- 
bile, and then he got in and the automobile 
brought him right to the old house, and he 
gathered his arms full of the flowers and 
started up-stairs to Chris, when he stubbed his 
toe on a loose board and fell, and — there 
wasn’t so much as a dandelion left. Yes, 
sir! Hans saw all that! He says he did. 

And once a man came, tall and handsome, 
and he took Hans and put him on a high 
throne and placed a crown on his head, and 
he had servants all about him in green and 
red. He did! Hans saw them. He says he 
did. 


HANS WAGNER AND THE ANGEL 47 

Then one night a lion came right up to his 
bedside and roared and put his feet upon 
Hans’ stomach, and it seemed as if his feet 
would have pressed right through Hans if 
Hans hadn’t shouted out loud and frightened 
him away; and when Hans asked Chris if he 
hadn’t seen the lion, all he said was, “Well, 
Hans, I think we won’t eat so much cheese 
and sausage tomorrow night.” 

Sometimes, you see, the things that Hans 
saw at night were not pleasant, but for the 
most part they were beautiful and wonderful. 

It was no wonder that tired Hans as he lay 
on his cot this night before Christmas should 
see things. And, indeed, he saw the most 
wonderful sight that he had ever seen in all 
his life, and the most wonderful thing was to 
happen to him that had ever happened to him 
in all his days. 

As he lay there, near Chris, all at once he 
saw sitting on the foot-board of his bed the 
most glorious person that you could ever 
think of. He — Hans thought it was he — 
had a fair complexion and flaxen hair. He 
had a great robe about him that was thick 
and white as a cloud, and it was trimmed 
with stars and blue sky. He had a voice 


48 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


like music, and when he smiled it was like 
moonlight. And, though he spoke low, Hans 
could hear every word he said. And this is 
what Hans first heard him say, for Hans 
remembered : 

** Sleep fasty little sleeper. Til watch by your bed; 

You* re dreaming of Christmas, of toys or a sled; 

Of dinner, it may be, of cake and ice-cream, — 

As big as a house, — What won* t a boy dream ? 

Dream on, little dreamer, dream just what you must; 

(I wish all men*s dreams were as proper and just.) 

Just tell me your wishes; 1*11 say as my task: 

You do as I tell you; 1*11 do what you ask** 

Hans could hear, I say, though Chris could 
not hear a word. And what is more, Hans 
could speak right back; but for a while he 
said never a word. He just looked and 
listened. Then Hans spoke, very respect- 
fully: 

“Who are you.^” 

“I am an angel,” was the reply. 

“What is your name.^” 

“Christmas. I have two names, you see, 
just like you. Christmas Angel is my full 
name. And you are Hans Wagner.” 

“How do you know my name?” 

“Oh, I know the names of all the boys.” 


HANS WAGNER AND THE ANGEL 49 


‘‘Of all the boys in the world?” 

The angel nodded. 

“Don’t you ever get them mixed up? 
Because there must be an awful lot of them; 
’most a thousand, aren’t there?” 

“At least that many,” smiled the angel. 

“Mr. Angel, do you know everything about 
Christmas?” 

“Yes,” said the angel, “I think so.” 

“Do you know why it is that sometimes 
when you ask for a drum you get a tin horn, 
and when you ask for a pair of skates you get 
only an orange or something like that?” 

“Yes,” said the angel, with a twinkle in 
one eye and a tear in the other. 

“Do you know why it is that when you 
ask for a baby you sometimes get a wheel- 
barrow, and when you ask for a wheelbarrow 
you sometimes get a baby, same as happened 
to the boy down-stairs?” 

“I do,” said the angel. 

“Do you know,” and now he looked very 
seriously at his visitor, “do you know why, 
when a fellow asks Santa Claus hard for a 
cap, and a pair of warm mittens, and a pair 
of shoes, he sometimes doesn’t get anything 
at all? Perhaps, — maybe he asked for too 


50 CITY THAT never WAS REACHED 


much and Santa Claus didn’t like it. Do 
you think that is why.^^” 

“No,” said the angel, very low, with a 
shadow on his face, “I think not.” 

There was quite a pause, and then Hans 
began again. 

“Well, Mr. Angel, do you know what every 
boy wants for Christmas.^” 

“I do, — when he tells me.” 

“Well, do you know what I want.^” 

“I should know; — if you told me. A drum 
and some skates, I suppose, and perhaps a 
silver horn, and an automobile, and a steam- 
engine, and ” 

“No,” said Hans, interrupting, “no, be- 
cause it wouldn’t do any good to want those 
things. I’d just like to have dinner at the 
great restaurant with dad, the same as we 
used to have it, at the big restaurant, you 
know, where the lights are, and everything, 
you know.” 

“Yes, I know,” said the angel. “Well, 
you may have it.” 

“No,” said Hans, sadly. “I don’t think 
so. For it costs a lot of money, — it costs a 
dollar. I heard dad say so, and dad’s sick 
and can’t play.” 


HANS WAGNER AND THE ANGEL 51 


‘‘But,’" said the angel, “didn’t you hear 
what I said just now as you were waking up? 
Listen ! 

Y ou tell me your wishes; Fll say as my task : 

You do what I tell you; Fll do what you askF 

“Will you?” asked Hans, scarce daring to 
believe his ears. 

“That’s what I said.” 

“You’ll do what I ask?” 

“If you do what I tell you.” 

“Is it hard?” 

“No,” said the angel, “not very. Most 
beautiful things are not very hard.” 

“Must I go very far away? Because I 
couldn’t leave dad.” 

“By no means; no one needs to go far away 
to do beautiful things.” 

“I’ll do it,” said Hans. “What is it?” 

Then the angel with his thumb turned a 
ring on his finger and held up his right hand, 
and threw upon the walls a great picture as a 
stereopticon does. It was the picture of a 
big white house. There were white columns 
in front, a row of them, and above them a 
row of windows with green shutters. And 
there were trees in front, and a green lawn, 


52 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

and across the street a park where in summer 
there were flowers and a fountain. 

“In this house,” said the angel, “there lives 
a poor sick man. He lies awake even now 
when all well and honest folks are asleep, 
except angels and wakeful boys. He is not 
happy as he thinks of Christmas. Tomorrow 
morning, just as the sun peeps through this 
little window, take your violin, go up in 
front of this house, and play and sing some 
of the old songs that your father has taught 
you. It will make the poor man happy.” 

“But where is the house.^ How can I 
find it?” 

“Oh, that’s not difficult. Go down these 
stairs and turn to the right and keep to the 
right till you find the right house. It isn’t 
far. You’ll come to it, and you’ll know it 
when you see it. Remember, just as the sun 
peeps through this little window.” 

With that the angel gathered his cloudy 
robe around him and prepared to depart. 

“But, Mr. Angel,” said Hans with a doubt 
in his blue eye, “will you keep your word?” 

“Angels always keep their word,” said he 
as he bowed and slipped quickly and quietly 
away. 


HANS WAGNER AND THE ANGEL 53 

Whether even the light foot of the angel 
made those rickety stairs creak so that Hans 
heard it, or whether it was the wheels of a 
passing milk wagon that awakened Hans, I 
cannot say. But something seemed at that 
very moment to arouse him and — the sun 
was just beginning to peep through the little 
window. 

Quickly and lightly he sprang from his cot, 
quietly he picked up his violin, and as quietly 
he slipped through the old door, and Chris 
never heard a sound. Down the stairs he 
went, then turned to the right and kept to 
the right, when, before he could believe it, 
he stood in front of the very house that he 
had seen on the wall of his room. There 
were the pillars and the windows and the green 
shutters and everything just as he had seen 
them. Then Hans remembered that he had 
heard one time, sure enough, that a poor sick 
man lived in one of those upper rooms. Per- 
haps it was the one where the window was 
open just a bit. 

Hans laid his violin upon his shoulder and 
played, at first very gently, and then he sang; 

Away in a manger. 

No crib for his bed,** 


54 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


And as he played and sang the window 
opened wider. Within on his bed lay the 
sick man propped on his pillows. His heavy 
eyes which had kept open all night grew 
full of light, and then so full of something else 
that he could not see. 

Then Hans sang another song, and another, 
and another, and then the great front door 
opened and Hans went in. Up the stairs 
with its thick soft carpet the nurse led him, 
and into the room of the sick man with its 
shining bedstead and its beautiful coverlet. 
Hans had never seen anything so grand. 

“Come here!” said the sick man gently. 
“What is your name.^” 

“Hans Wagner.” 

“How old are you?” 

“Past ten, sir.” 

“What is your father’s name?” 

“Chris Wagner.” 

“Where do you live?” 

“On Pleasant Street, sir.” 

And many another question he asked, to 
each of which Hans gave the best reply that 
he could. 

“Why did you come to my house this 
morning?” 


HANS WAGNER AND THE ANGEL 55 


‘‘An angel sent me, sir.” 

“An angel he asked; “an angel 

“Yes, sir, Christmas Angel was his name. 
That’s what he told me. He said a poor sick 
man lived here, and so I came to try to 
make you happy.” 

The sick man motioned to the nurse, who 
brought him something from the secret drawer. 

“I am a sick man,” said he, “but not a 
poor man. Here, take this, my boy. I had 
a boy once just your size; he never grew any 
bigger.” And he put into the boy’s hand a 
great, round, shining, yellow piece. Hans 
had never seen anything like it before. He 
put it into his pocket, but held it in his hand 
for fear that it might go right through, it 
was so heavy. And then, too, he was more 
than half afraid that he might wake up and 
find that he had been only seeing things again. 
He was not long in finding his way back to 
the old tenement and up the stairs. Chris 
was just beginning to fear that something 
must have befallen the lad, something very 
strange and terrible. 

It was not long before a doctor came to see 
Chris. And then an automobile came. And 
then Chris and Hans went away. And they 


56 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

had their great dinner, — but it was not at 
the restaurant. It was at the big white 
house. 

Such a dinner as that was! 

Ice-cream ! 

And cake!! 

And Plum Pudding!!! 

Then there was the Christmas tree, with 
toys and picture-books, and a cap and mittens 
and all sorts of things. 

How swiftly that day flew! Surely no day 
in all Hans’ life ever flew so swiftly. It was 
night before he knew it, and time for a tired 
boy to be in bed. And his bed was not to be 
the old cot in the attic, but a flne shining bed 
in the big house, where they were to stay 
until Chris grew well enough to work again. 

It seemed to Chris as if Hans never would 
fall asleep. He talked and talked of things 
that had happened and things that never could 
happen. At length Chris thought that Hans 
was still for the night. But he wasn’t. 
‘‘Dad,” said Hans, “the angel kept his word, 
didn’t he?” 

And then he was asleep, sure enough. 


§luery i^ueer and the Flowers 


f ^ % 


I 


•• s 






^ery Siueer and 
the Flowers 


NCE in the month of May in 
the Land-Where-ALL-Things- 
Happen the boy who comes 
into my story was on a holi- 
day in the woods. He loved 
the rocks and the water and 
the birds, and everything that grew. All the 
morning he had had a happy time, chasing 
the chipmunks that waited till he came close, 
then shook their tails and teased him, build- 
ing dams in the brook to make the water leap, 
hunting for birds’ nests where there were 
none while the wise old birds looked on and 
laughed. 

When the sun grew high our young nature- 
lover started for home. As he neared the 
edge of the woods where the daisies were 
thick and the grass was very green, he heard 
a voice that was quite new to him. It was 
too big for a bird, yet not big enough for a 

59 





60 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

person. It sounded more like a fairy or a 
spirit. Whatever or whoever it was, it was 
singing a quiet happy song, and the boy could 
understand it perfectly. 

‘‘7 l(yve the birds, I love the flowers, 

I love the flelds, — I do. 

They tell me their secrets, I tell them mine. 

And we keep our secrets true.*' 

A few steps further, and there he was! 

On a little sunny slope, on an old stump, 
among the daisies, sat the gayest little fellow 
that ever was found in the woods. If one 
should judge by his dress he did not work 
very hard, and if one should judge by his 
face he was always happy. He had trousers 
and jacket of lightest blue and a pointed cap 
to match. Every button was a silver bell 
and a fringe of silver bells hung from his 
cap, so there was a constant tinkling as he 
sang away: 

“7 know the birds, I know the flowers, 

I know the flelds, — 7 do. 

If you'll keep their secrets, as they keep yours. 

I'll tell those secrets to you." 

For nearly a full minute the astonished boy 
looked at him with open eyes and said never 
a word, and although the singer saw the boy 


QUERY QUEER AND THE FLOWERS 61 


perfectly out of the corner of his eye, he did 
not turn his head, or seem to see, but looked 
surprised as the wondering lad stepped out 
with his cap in his hand and politely said, 
‘‘Good morning, sir.” 

“I am not ‘sir,’” said the little man on the 
stump. 

“Good morning, madam.” 

“I api not ‘madam’ either.” 

“Then what are you.^” 

“I am a spirit,” he said, folding his hands 
across his breast and looking mysterious. 

“What is your name, Mr. Spirit.^” 

“I am the spirit of the woods. I am known 
by many names. Some folks call me the 
‘ Wise-and-Wonder-Man.’ ” 

“Is that so?” 

The little man nodded, “That’s what I 
said.” 

“Well, I am glad to meet you. I have 
often heard of you. My mother has told me 
about you.” 

“Yes? And what, please, is your name? 
I have not the honor of your acquaintance, 
I believe.” 

“Oh, my name is John, but they call me 
Query Queer.” 


62 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

‘‘Query Queer? Well, that is a queer 
name. What do they call you that for?’’ 

“They call me Query because I ask so many 
questions, I suppose, and they call me Queer 
because my questions are queer, they say, 
but I don’t think they are. I just ask what 
I want to know.” 

“So your mother has told you about me, 
has she? She must be a very well-informed 
woman.” 

“Yes, she is,” said Query; “she knows a 
lot, ’most everything. But sometimes, when 
I ask her a question, she says that nobody 
knows but the Wise-and-Wonder-Man. And 
I have wanted to see you for a long, longtime.” 

The little man made a very grave bow, and 
his eyes twinkled and his cap tinkled. 

“Do you know,” asked Query, lying down 
among the daisies, as if for an extended chat, 
“do you know everything? why robins’ eggs 
are blue, and thrushes’ eggs are speckled?” 

The Wise - and - Wonder - Man nodded : 
“That’s easy; they can’t be any other color, 
and they just have to be that.” 

“Do you know why they put salt on a 
bird’s tail to catch it, and why strawberries 
have their inside seeds on the outside?” 


QUERY QUEER AND THE FLOWERS 63 

do.” Another nod. 

‘‘Well, Mr. Wise-and-Wonder-Man, there 
is a very particular question that I want to 
ask you today.” 

“Indeed.^ what is it?” 

“Where do the flowers come from?” 

“Why, out of the ground, of course.” 

“Oh, I don’t mean that,” said Query, much 
annoyed, “but where did they come from in 
the first place?” 

“You mean to ask, how there came to be 
any flowers?” 

“Yes,” said Query. 

“Well,” said the Wise-and-Wonder-Man, as 
he took off his blue cap with the silver bells, 
and put it on his knee and settled down 
for quite a story, “it’s a long time since 
I thought about that, but as near as I can 
remember the story is something like this: 

“ Ever so many centuries ago the world was 
bare and gray as the street. The Earth King 
grew very tired of it, and covered the earth 
with a beautiful carpet of green. We call it 
grass. For years and years there was nothing 
but green until the Earth King grew as tired 
of the green as he had grown of the gray. 
He decided that he must have more colors. 


64 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

So one day he took his royal retinue and 
journeyed to a hillside where he knew there 
grew the very finest grasses in all the king- 
dom. At a blast of the king’s bugler the 
grasses assembled, and the king addressed 
them in simple words: ‘‘My faithful grasses. 
It is many years since I placed you here. 
You have been faithful. You have kept true 
green. It now pleases me to announce to 
you that I am about to reward a certain 
number of you and make you to be lords and 
ladies of the field. Tomorrow I shall come 
hither at this same hour. You are to assemble 
before me, and the fairest of your number 
and the most pleasing I will honor with great 
and lasting honor. Farewell.” 

Then what a whispering and putting of 
heads together there was among the grasses, 
as the breeze crept up the hillside. They 
arose next morning before the sun that they 
might wash their ribbons in the gleaming 
pearls of dew. What prinking and preening! 
What rustling of ruffles and sashes! What 
burnishing of armor and spears! At length 
the king’s bugle rang out that called them 
to the grand assembly. Full of excitement, 
they stood before the king, each hoping 


QUERY QUEER AND THE FLOWERS 65 

that he might be chosen for one of the great 
honors. 

The king greeted them as on the previous 
day, and told them again of the high honor 
that he was about to bestow. “But,” said 
he, “in this Court of Judgment I must have 
willing servants to assist me. First, I must 
have a keeper of the gate so that no outsider 
may enter. Which one of this host will be 
keeper of the gate.^” 

Not a man-grass stirred in his tracks, for 
each feared that if he became a servant of 
the king, he would lose his chance to be 
made a lord. 

“Which one,” asked the king again, “which 
one will volunteer to keep the gate for me.^” 

At this moment a sturdy grass was seen 
coming down the hillside. He was not hand- 
some, but he was strong, his shoulders were 
broad, and his chest was deep, and he was 
armed to the teeth. Spear points stuck from 
every pocket, arrows filled his belt, and in 
each hand he carried a lance sharp as light- 
ning. “Let these wait for their honors,” 
thought he, as he said, “/ will serve the 
King.” 

“So be it,” said the King, “take your sta- 


66 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

tion at the gate. And now/’ continued the 
King, “I must have a herald to announce my 
awards and my commands. Who will be my 
herald.^^” 

Again there was silence among the man- 
grasses till at last one of them was seen to 
advance. He was short and round and smil- 
ing, as happy a grass as grew on the hill. He 
came before the King as fast as his short legs 
could carry him. “So it please the King, 
I’ll be his royal herald.” 

“So be it,” replied the King. “Stand here 
at my feet.” 

“Two torch-bearers I need,” said the King, 
“two torch-bearers, tall and comely, to hold 
the lights on high. Who will serve the King 
as torch-bearers.^” 

And now there was silence and stiffness 
among the lady -grasses as each, fearing to 
lose her chance to be made a lady, waited for 
the others. At length two slender maidens 
advanced with glowing faces and hesitant 
step. They were not as beautiful, it must be 
said, as some of their sisters. Their ribbons 
were few and some of them were frayed. 
They scarcely knew whether the king would 
accept them, but they meekly offered them- 


QUERY QUEER AND THE FLOWERS 67 

selves. ‘‘We, O King, will be your torch- 
bearers.” 

“The King looked pleased enough as he 
replied, “So be it, indeed. Stand here on 
either hand.” 

“And now,” continued the King, “I must 
have an incense bearer, to swing my censer 
over the meadows. Who will be my incense 
bearer 

For a moment there was silence again among 
the lady-grasses, but only for a moment, for 
out stepped one of the daintiest of them all. 
She tripped quickly and quietly down the 
hill to the King, saying modestly as she ap- 
proached, “ I will be your incense bearer.” 

“Let it be so,” said the King. “Await my 
commands.” 

“Yet one more willing servant,” said the 
King, “one more. Who will ring the chimes? 
Man or maid, who among all these loyal sub- 
jects will ring the chimes?” 

Scarcely had the King’s words left his lips, 
when one of the noblest grasses of all, her 
broad green ribbons rustling as she moved, 
left the crowded ranks of the ladies and 
eagerly advanced before the King. “If it 
please Your Majesty, I will ring the chimes.” 


68 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

Then the King looked around satisfied upon 
his eager and expectant audience, and spoke 
a few brief words to them. He had come, he 
said, fearing that the task was almost too 
great even for a king, — to choose among so 
many and so beautiful subjects. But they 
had chosen for themselves, and he had now 
only to award the honors. 

“Keeper of the gate!” he commanded, 
“stand before the King.” 

The keeper of the gate came awkwardly 
forward, pricking all who brushed against 
him as he passed. 

“Because you have been willing to serve 
the King,” said the monarch, “I reward you 
with distinguished honor.” Then, taking from 
the hand of a page a great velvet cap of pur- 
plish red, he placed it upon the head of the 
Gate-Keeper, saying as he did so, “I dub you: 
My Lord, the Thistle.” 

“Let the King’s herald stand forth!” 

The little round happy herald obeyed and 
knelt before the King. The King took a 
great golden coronet from the hand of a page 
and placed it upon his head, saying as he did 
so, “Because of your readiness to serve your 
king, I create you a noble of the field, and 


QUERY QUEER AND THE FLOWERS 69 

dub you: My Lord, the Dandelion. And I 
give you this trumpet on which to blow.’’ 

“Let the torch-bearers stand forth!” 

Then the two shy maidens from either side 
of the King bowed before him. On the head 
of each the Kang placed a shining crown, one 
all gold, and one gold rimmed with white, 
that they might not be confused, and he said 
to them, “Because of your generous deed I 
dub you: Lady Buttercup and Lady Daisy.” 

“My incense bearer!” 

The dainty maiden courtesied at his feet 
and, blushing, bowed her head. 

The King beckoned to a page, who brought 
him a tiny hood of most becoming blue. 
This the King placed upon her head, saying 
the while: “The King is grateful for your 
service. I dub you: Lady Violet.” 

“The ringer of the royal chimes, let her 
appear!” 

The beautiful grass with the broad, shining 
ribbons stood proudly before him, and bowed 
her head in salute. The King took a silver 
bell and gave it to her, saying as he did so, 
“This shall be the sign of your royal oflBce. 
I dub you: Lady Lily-of-the-Field.” 

The King then charged his new-made lords 


70 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

and ladies that they should be faithful to 
their oflSces and never cease, year by year, to 
beautify the earth. Then the assembly was 
dissolved, but not until the whole host of 
grasses on the hillside had applauded what 
the King had done. They were disappointed 
and grieved, it is true, but they were not too 
jealous to know that the bravest and truest 
and most beautiful had been crowned with 
honor due. 

“And that,” said the Wise-and-Wonder- 
Man, “is how the flowers came, as I remember 
the ancient tale.” 

“But there are other flowers,” said Query 
Queer. “Where did they come from.'^ Were 
they also made lords and ladies by the Earth 
King?” 

“Oh, yes,” said the little man on the stump, 
“but that was afterward. Come now, shake 
hands, and I’ll be off.” 

Then just what happened. Query Queer 
does not know. All he knows is that he heard 
a tinkling of silver bells, and that when he 
rubbed his eyes and went up to the stump 
there was nobody there. 


'The Golden Horse and His 

Rider 



The Golden Horse 
and His Rider 



^UST round the corner in a cer- 
tain village stood the little 
shoemaker shop. It was called 
The Boys’ Retreat because 
the boys were there so much 
to listen to the stories without 


number that Uncle Zed had to tell. Uncle 
Zed was the shoemaker. Every day except 
Sunday he was at his bench, and every day 
on the shiny bench, just across the narrow 
room, beyond the pile of old shoes and thick 
leather, there was almost always to be found 
a group of the village boys, listening to the 
kindly shoemaker, with his bald head and big 
glasses and striped apron, as he told some 
story, new or old, it didn’t much matter 
which, as he kept peg-peg, peg-peg, peg-peg- 
ging away at a shoe. 

Uncle Zed had scarcely begun work one 
morning when the door flew open and there 
stood before him one of his favorite boys. 



74 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


“Good morning, Uncle Zed! Is it going 
to rain?” 

“Well, I don’t know. Jack,” said Uncle 
Zed deliberately. 

“Well, do you think it’s going to rain? 
Say ‘Yes.’” 

“Say ‘Yes’?” asked Uncle Zed, question- 
ingly. 

“Yes, mother says she wants me to do an 
errand that will take ’most all the morning, 
if you think it isn’t going to rain. But if you 
think it is, she says that I may stay in and 
play with my new saw and plane. Say it’s 
going to rain, please.” 

“Well,” said Uncle Zed, as he looked over 
his glasses out through the low door and up 
at the top of the stable across the street, “the 
golden horse up there points to the south, 
and when he points that way, the weather 
is likely to be fair.” 

“Do you mean that weathervane? Be- 
cause I hate a weathervane.” 

“So?” asked Uncle Zed slowly. 

“Yes, the teacher says Jim Brown is a 
weathervane. I don’t think much of Jim. 
Fiyst he said he wouldn’t and then he said he 
would, and then he said he wouldn’t, and the 


GOLDEN HORSE AND HIS RIDER 75 

teacher said, ‘Jim Brown, you are a weather- 
vane.’” 

“I don’t believe your teacher ever heard 
the story of the Golden Horse and his Rider, 
or she wouldn’t think the weathervane was 
so bad.” 

“I don’t know. I know I never heard it. 
Won’t you tell it to me. Uncle Zed.^^” and he 
sat down comfortably on the shiny bench. 

Uncle Zed picked up a shoe, looked at it 
carefully, turned it over and over the way 
he always did when he was getting ready to 
tell a story, put it on the last, and began to 
peg, peg-peg, peg-peg, peg away, and, as he 
did so, he talked: 

Once upon a time, so I heard a great many 
years ago, there lived away off somewhere a 
king and his people. They were a peaceable 
folk, but not very brave, and withal they were 
happy and contented, until a terrible sickness 
fell upon them. Many died, among them 
the king’s son. At length the king was 
stricken with the terrible plague. He called 
to his side the most skilful physicians of the 
realm, but they could do him no good. He 
summoned the magicians, but they gave him 
no help. Then he sought the priests of the 


76 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

tribe. They built a great fire upon the altar 
before the temple on the hillside and stood 
before it, and said strange things that you 
and I could not understand. The king knelt 
before the altar, lifted up his hands and 
prayed to the Great Spirit that he would tell 
him how to regain his health. 

When the king finished his prayer, the 
great column of smoke that rose straight from 
the altar bent over and pointed to the North, 
and a great voice out of the altar said, 

‘‘A draught from the frozen fountain.” 

Then the smoke pointed to the East and 
the voice said, 

“The blue flower from the seaside.” 

Then again the smoke pointed to the South 
and the same voice said solemnly, 

“A white stone from the desert.” 

And the smoke rose straight upward again 
and all was still. 

The chief priest told the king the meaning 
of it all. If one should get a draught from 
the frozen fountain in the North, some blue 
flowers from the seaside, and some of the 
magic rock from away to the South, the doc- 
tors could brew a healing drink for the king 
and he would surely recover. 


GOLDEN HORSE AND HIS RIDER 77 


Then the king called a great assembly of 
the men of the tribe, and told them of the 
voice that came from the altar and the words 
of the priest. “Now,” said the king, “who 
will go for me? The journey is long and 
hard and dangerous. To the man who is 
brave enough to go I will give a ring, and I 
will put a golden chain around his neck and 
he shall be second ruler of the land. Who- 
ever will go, let him now stand before the 
king.” 

For a time no one stirred, for, as I have 
said, they were not a brave people. Then 
the ranks opened and a young man, scarcely 
yet a man in body, slender, fair of face, with 
flaxen hair, pressed his way to the feet of the 
king. “If it please His Majesty, I will go 
for the king.” 

“What is your name, and what is your 
father’s name?” 

“My name is Olute, and my father is only 
one of the king’s gardeners. I am of humble 
birth, but if there be no worthier, I will serve 
the king.” 

The king gave command that his favorite 
horse should be made ready. The servant 
led it out, — large, beautiful, and yellow as 


78 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

gold. With his own hands the king threw a 
royal cloak over the slender shoulders of the 
lad. For a moment the king’s face was full 
of light as he thought of the healing brew; 
the next it clouded. The lad seemed too 
young for a journey so long and terrible. 
“Go not, my lad,” he said. “I fear you 
never can reach the frozen fountain. Let 
some one older go. Beware of the North 
Wind. It chills the marrow, it freezes the 
blood.” 

But Olute was undaunted: 

Let it chiU my marrow and freeze my bloody 
I fear not the windy — nor anything. 

1 on this noble horse of mine 

Will face the North for love of the Icing.* 

And with that he touched his foot to the 
stirrup, swung into the saddle, and was off so 
quickly that he did not hear the king say, 
“God bless thee, lad!” And the retreating 
hoof -beats on the pavement — 

Clickety clacky clickety clacky clickety clack; 
Kut-tur-r-rupy kut-tur-r-rupy kut-tur-r-rupy 

seemed to say: 

will be backy I will be backy I will be back; 
Hurry upy hurry upy hurry up.** 

The king was right. The North Wind 


GOLDEN HORSE AND HIS RIDER 79 


blew fierce and cutting. It smote horse and 
rider in the face like a sword. It chilled the 
marrow, it seemed to freeze the blood. Yet 
Olute pressed on; not for a moment did he 
think of turning back. When at times he 
almost despaired of threading his way through 
the cold mountains, and gaining the summit, 
he would whisper to the horse as he stroked 
his neck with hands quite numb, ^‘For love 
of the king, for love of the king!” and then 
new courage seemed to come. 

At length, one evening after many a day, 
he passed the summit and spied a light, the 
torch which the old monk at the fountain 
kept burning to guide the chance traveler. 
The monk noted the king’s horse and the 
royal cloak, and gave the best of his store 
to horse and messenger. 

After a day of refreshment Olute filled his 
leather bottle at the frozen fountain and 
made ready his noble horse. 

‘‘Whither do you ride, my lad.^” asked the 
monk, unwilling to see him go. 

“The king is ill, I go to the East, to the 
seaside, to pluck the blue fiower that will heal 
the king.” 

The monk tried in vain to dissuade him. 


80 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

“Go not to the sea till the warmer days are 
come. The way is dangerous. Beware of 
the East Wind; it is full of snow and hail. 
The fierce blizzard will smother you. It will 
take your breath and blind your eyes.” 

But Olute could not be persuaded: 

** Let it take my breath and blind my eyesy 
I fear not the stormy — nor anything. 

I on this noble horse of mine 

Will face the East for love of the king.** 

Then he touched his toe to the stirrup, 
swung into the saddle, and was off before the 
monk could give him his blessing, and the 
retreating hoof -beats on the ice — 

Crunchety crunchy crunchety crunchy crunchety crunch, 
Kur-tur-r-rupy kut-tur-r-rupy kut-tur-r-rup, 

seemed to say: 

**At onccy at onccy — at onccy at oncCy — at oncCy at 
onccy 

Hurry upy hurry upy hurry up.** 

The monk was right. Scarcely had Olute 
ridden beyond the good man’s gaze when the 
fearful East Wind, full of snow and ice, the 
dread blizzard from the East, smote him and 
his horse full in the face. It took his breath 
away, it blinded his eyes. It seemed as if he 


GOLDEN HORSE AND HIS RIDER 81 

must perish in the deep snows that filled the 
way. But over and over again, when the way 
seemed impossible, he would say, “For love 
of the king, for love of the king.” Then new 
strength seemed to come, and he pressed on 
till one day the wind blew softer and birds 
fiew over his head, and he knew that the sea 
was near. Before night he came to the great 
lighthouse on the cliffs. When the keeper of 
the light saw the royal cloak, he gave the best 
he had to horse and messenger. 

After a day of refreshment Olute filled his 
bosom with the blue fiowers that he found 
among the crags along the coast, and made 
ready his horse. The keeper of the light was 
unwilling to see him go. “Whither do you 
ride.^” he inquired. 

“To the South,” said Olute. “The king is 
ill. In the desert, so the priests say, there is 
a white stone that will bring him health. I 
must ride to fetch it.” 

The keeper warned him that he should not 
go. “The hot wind is blowing from the 
desert. It is terrible. It will blister your 
cheek and parch your throat. You will never 
live to reach the land of the white stone. Do 
not go, my boy.” 


82 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

But Olute would not listen to the warning 
of the hot wind: 

Let it blister my cheek and parch my throaty 
1 fear not the heaty — nor anything. 

I on this noble horse of mine 

Will face the South for love of the king.** 

And with that he touched his foot to the 
stirrup, swung into the saddle, and was oflf, 
while the light-keeper breathed a prayer for 
him, and the hoof -beats on the rocky road — 

Cheng-a-chengy cheng-a-chengy cheng-a-chengy 
Kut-tur-r-rupy kut-tur-r-rupy kut-tur-r-rupy 

seemed to say: 

“On againy on againy on again y 
Hurry up, hurry upy hurry up.** 

It was a fearful journey to the South. The 
lighthouse keeper was right. The hot wind 
blistered his cheek and parched his throat. 
There was neither shelter nor shade from the 
scorching heat. Horse and rider were many 
a time ready to faint. But when the heat 
became most unbearable Olute would whisper 
to himself, “For love of the king, for love of 
the king!’’ and ride onward with new courage. 

At length, toward evening of a long and 
terrible day, Olute caught sight of something 
white on the horizon. It was the white cliff 


GOLDEN HORSE AND HIS RIDER 83 

of the desert, from which he was to fetch the 
magic stone that he sought. 

There was no refuge or lighthouse near, 
where he might gain refreshment, but there 
was a great tree and some green grass where 
horse and rider could rest. 

Next day, with the precious stone in his 
bag, the blue flower in his bosom, and the 
draught from the frozen fountain in his 
leather bottle, he mounted again and turned 
his faithful horse homeward toward the West. 
How refreshing was now the west wind that 
blew in their faces ! Had it not been for that, 
they might never have reached home again. 
The horse was weary and broken, and stum- 
bled as he went, yet he ever rose again at a 
word from his rider. After many days they 
came within sight of the city walls. 

As Olute approached the city gates he 
heard the great bell of the temple and in- 
quired of travelers what it meant. 

“Why, do you not know? The king is 
sick, is dying, may even now be dead. The 
bell summons all to prayer.” 

Without a word Olute put spurs to his horse. 
Up to the gates he dashed, past the guard, to 
the door of the castle, where he dismounted 


84 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

and hastened to the king’s bedside with the 
precious things that he had brought from the 
North, the East, and the South. 

After a time the great bell ceased. The 
next morning it began again, but this time it 
rang joyously, for the king was better. The 
strange medicine from far away brought the 
king back to health and the people were once 
more happy. 

But it was long before Olute heard the good 
news. The fearful winds had done their 
work, and Olute had nearly given his life for 
the king. For many days he lay sick of a 
burning fever, and often he seemed to be 
patting his horse on the neck and talking to 
him. But one day the fever left him, and he 
grew well again. 

Then the king called a great assembly of 
the people, and in the presence of them all he 
put upon the finger of the lad a great ring, 
hung about his neck a golden chain, and 
proclaimed him the second ruler of the land. 
Then said the king: 

“Your name is Olute. It will be changed. 
Henceforth we shall call you Res-olute, which 
means , The-Man- Who-F aces-The- Wind . ’ ’ 

But all was not so well with the great horse. 


GOLDEN HORSE AND HIS RIDER 85 


The journey was his last. The winds had 
taken his life. All was done for him that 
men were wise enough to do. The king was 
often seen to stand by him in the royal stable, 
and to put his arm affectionately around the 
great, proud neck. But he died, and went to 
the land where all good horses go. 

The king gave orders that his artists should 
make a statue of the horse as like him in 
color and form as they could make it, and set 
it up in the great square. So the artists made 
a horse of gold for the king. 

When the day came on which it was to be 
set up on its great pillar, the people gathered 
to see the sight. The workmen lifted it up 
and put it in place amid the shouts of the 
people. Then — would you believe it.^ — 
the wind suddenly changed from west to 
north and the golden horse turned to face it, 
as the real horse had faced it for the king. 
The people were frightened; they thought he 
was alive. Some fled; some fell down and 
prayed. Little by little they lost their fear 
and came to believe that it was the spirit of 
the king’s horse that was in the statue that 
made it turn and always face the wind. And 
by and by the people learned to come and 


86 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


look at the horse when they desired to know 
which way the wind was blowing and what 
the weather was to be. 

The shoemaker made a long pause, which 
was the sign that that was the end of the 
story. 

“And that is the reason, is it. Uncle Zed, 
why some folks have those little golden horses 
on their barns?” asked Jack. 

“That’s what I have heard,” replied Uncle 
Zed. 

There was another pause. 

“Well,” said Jack, “I think I must be 
going.” 

“Going? Where, Jack?” 

“Oh, on that errand for mother.” 

“Better wait awhile. Jack,” said Uncle Zed, 
trying to be serious and looking over his 
glasses again and out through the little door, 
“the horse points a little more to the East. 
It may possibly rain, and then you would get 
wet.” 

“Who cares?” said Jack. “I’m not afraid,” 
and he darted out of the door and was off. 
And Uncle Zed smiled, and smiled, and smiled, 
as he went on peg, peg-peg, peg-peg-pegging 
away. 


'The Shepherd TVho Didn't Go 



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The Shepherd IVho 
Didff t Go 



OU ha ve all heard of the shep- 
herds who went to Bethlehem, 
but I do not believe any of 
you have heard of the shep- 
herd who didn’t go. The 
Bible does not say anything 
about him, but his story has come to me, and 
I am going to tell it to you. 

The city of Bethlehem stood on a hill. 
Below the town, with its steep narrow streets 
and white walls, were gray olive orchards. 
Below the orchards were gardens bright with 
flowers. Below the gardens lay green mead- 
ows, and beyond these the pasture-lands that 
stretched away to the wilderness plains where 
little patches of grass grew among the bushes 
and between the great rocks. There were 
caves among these rocks where wolves used 
to skulk and sometimes robbers hid. So the 


90 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

shepherds who guarded their flocks in these 
wild pastures dared not leave them alone. 

One clear beautiful night, many centuries 
ago, four shepherds were watching their flocks 
on these pastures. Samuel, Ezra, Joel, and 
Dahvid were their names. Samuel, Ezra, and 
Joel were strong men, no longer young, with 
shaggy eyebrows and brown beards; Ezra’s 
was short, Joel’s long, and Samuel’s streaked 
with gray. They owned the flocks which 
they tended. Dahvid was a boy with ruddy 
cheeks, bright eyes, and strong lithe limbs. 
He cared for the flocks of old Abraham. 
Abraham was old and rich, and did not work 
any more, but hired Dahvid, whose family 
was very poor, to care for his sheep. 

The flocks of the four shepherds were lying 
quiet on the plain far below the city, and 
near by Samuel, Ezra, Joel, and Dahvid 
lay wrapped in their shepherd cloaks. 

“Samuel,” said Dahvid, rising upon his 
elbow. 

“What is it, Dahvid.^” asked the other in a 
deep voice. 

“Are you not glad that you tend sheep in 
Bethlehem instead of in some distant place?” 

“Why, Dahvid?” asked Samuel sleepily. 


THE SHEPHERD WHO DIDN’t GO 91 


“Because it is in Bethlehem that the King 
we have been looking for so long is to be 
born. I have been reading it in the prophets 
only today.” 

“Have you only just heard of that.'^” 
asked Ezra sourly. 

“No,” replied the boy hotly. “I have 
heard my mother tell of it ever since I can 
remember, and I have read it over and over 
again. Samuel ! ” 

“Yes, Dahvid.?^” 

“Do you think we shall ever see the prom- 
ised King?” 

“I do not know, my boy,” the older man 
answered sadly. “We have waited long, and 
there seems little hope for Israel now. But 
he will come some day, he will come some day. 
Why do you ask, Dahvid?” 

“I cannot tell. It is often in my mind. 
Something makes me think of it tonight. 
Perhaps it is because I read of him today. 
Samuel, I would walk to the end of the earth 
to see the Christ-child.” 

“Well, you need not start now,” grumbled 
Ezra, and Joel added roughly, “Go to sleep, 
boy, the hour is late.” 

It was much later before Dahvid fell asleep. 


92 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

for his head was full of dreams, and the 
stories of wonderful days to come that his 
mother had told him. But at length he joined 
the rest in healthy slumber. 

Suddenly it seemed to each of them that 
something passed over him, and touched him 
lightly on the cheek. The older men raised 
themselves on their elbows, but Dahvid 
sprang to his feet. At first they saw only a 
great light, which nearly blinded them, then 
they discerned a shining form in the sky, and 
heard a voice saying: “Be not afraid; for 
behold, I bring you good tidings of great 
joy which shall be to all the people; for there 
is born to you this day in the city of David 
a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord. And this 
is the sign unto you: Ye shall find a babe 
wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in 
a manger.” 

And then all the sky was full of light, and 
the air was full of heavenly voices, singing, 
“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth 
peace, good will toward men.” 

While the shepherds listened, half joyful, 
half afraid, the light faded and the voices 
floated away, — “ Good will to men — to men 
— to men,” and all was still as before. For 


THE SHEPHERD WHO DIDN’t GO 93 

a moment the shepherds looked at each other 
in silent awe and wonder. Then Ezra spoke 
in a voice dry with fear. “What was it?” 

Dahvid stood speechless, and Samuel an- 
swered reverently, “Angels.” 

“Brothers,” he continued, “a wonderful 
thing has happened to us. It has been a 
long, long day since angels have spoken to 
men.” 

Then he girded his shepherd’s cloak about 
him and seized his staff. “Come, Ezra, Joel, 
Dahvid, let us be going.” 

“Going — where?” asked Ezra and Joel. 

“Why, to Bethlehem to see the Child. 
Did not the angel tell us the sign? Let us 
go at once to find the babe wrapped in swad- 
dling clothes and lying in a manger.” 

“There be many mangers in Bethlehem,” 
objected Ezra. 

“I know not how we shall find him,” said 
Joel. “It is a vain search, I fear,” and he 
drew his cloak about him and reached for 
his staff, “but I will go with you if you say.” 

So they started, Samuel, Ezra, and Joel, — 
but Dahvid stood still. 

“Come, Dahvid, make haste!” called 
Samuel. 


94 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


But the boy did not move. 

“I cannot go/’ he said. 

“Cannot go!” cried Samuel in amazement; 
and Ezra added, “Who said but a little while 
ago that he would go to the end of the earth 
to see the King?” 

“And so I would,” cried Dahvid; “but the 
sheep — we cannot leave the sheep alone.” 

“The sheep will be safe enough,” said 
Samuel. “The dogs will keep them together. 
There are no wolves tonight. Come, Dahvid.” 

But the boy was firm. “There is my mas- 
ter; he’ll be angry if I leave his fiocks alone.” 

“Old Abraham will never know,” said Joel. 

“Abraham is a hard master,” said Dahvid. 
“Many a time I have felt his heavy staff on 
my back. But it is not that which keeps 
me. I have given him my word that, come 
day, come night, come life, come death, I will 
not fail to keep the flocks. Go on without 
me; I must keep my word. Go on.” 

So they went on, impatient and eager for 
this wondrous quest, Ezra and Joel muttering 
now and then at the obstinacy of the boy, 
but Samuel full of glowing admiration. Dah- 
vid watched them as they moved up the hill. 
That dream of finding the Christ-child, — 


THE SHEPHERD WHO DIDN’t GO 95 

how could he give it up? Once he started 
forward: “I will go!” But something held 
him back, and he threw himself on the ground 
and kept back tears of bitter disappointment. 
After a time he grew calmer, and found a 
certain comfort in thinking of the helpless- 
ness of his flock. 

Suddenly the low growling of his dog 
brought him to his feet. But he saw nothing, 
heard nothing, and bade the dog be still. 
In a moment, with a bark of alarm, the dog 
was up again and away. Dahvid sprang up, 
certain now that danger was near. There 
was panic in the flock. Toward the wilder- 
ness he could see lean, gray forms, moving 
stealthily and swiftly among the sheep. 
Wolves! Springing upon a rock, and wav- 
ing his cloak in circles about his head, he 
uttered the familiar call which gathered the 
sheep about him, his own sheep nearest, and 
behind them the flocks of Samuel, Ezra, 
and Joel. The wolves made off and Dahvid 
quickly looked over his flock to see if all were 
there, — for the Eastern shepherd knows his 
sheep by name. 

One by one he named them, with an in- 
creasing feeling of relief. They were all there. 


96 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


No! One was missing, — Ke-barbara, the pet 
of the flock. Ke-barbara means striped, and 
the little sheep was so called because of the 
dark marking of her fleece. After waving 
his staff over the huddled beasts, and utter- 
ing a few times the soothing cry, ‘‘Hoo-o-o, 
ta-a-a! hoo-o-o, ta-a-a!” he rushed off in the 
direction which the wolves had taken. At 
the top of the steep bank, at the edge of the 
pasture, he stopped and called, Ke-barbara ! 
Ke-barbara!” and for answer heard an an- 
guished bleat from the rocks below. 

It was a steep and slippery way, but Dahvid 
plunged down with no thought of anything 
but the sheep. Loose stones gave way and 
he lost his footing. At the bottom he picked 
himself up unhurt, and there beside him were 
two wolves quarreling over the wounded 
sheep. One of them slunk away at sight of 
the boy, but the other had had a taste of 
blood and sprang at Dahvid, missing his 
throat but sinking his teeth into his arm. 
He sprang again, and this time tore his leg. 
Then Dahvid, as the beast turned to spring 
again, struck him a heavy blow on the head 
with his staff and killed him. His own 
wounds were bleeding and painful, but he 


THE SHEPHERD WHO DIDN’t GO 97 


turned at once with caressing words to the 
sheep. 

“Ke-barbara, they have hurt you, little 
sheep! But they have not killed you; no, 
they have not killed you! I reached you just 
in time. You cannot walk; can you.^ And I 
am afraid I cannot carry you. But I can 
help. There, put your head on my arm.” 
He groaned with pain. “No, the other one.” 
So he talked to her, as to a child, as the 
wounded boy and the wounded sheep slowly 
made their way up the steep hillside and 
over the rough rocks. It was not a long way, 
and, half an hour before, the sturdy shepherd 
lad would have bounded over it quickly 
enough. But now the wounded leg was slow, 
the wounded arm was weak, and the wounded 
lamb seemed very heavy. It was a weary 
journey, with many stops. When at last 
they reached the flock, still huddled trembling 
together, Dahvid had only strength to give 
one reassuring “Hoo-o-o, ta-a-a,” then fell 
exhausted. 

How long he lay there he did not know, 
but the dawn was growing bright, when three 
men appeared from the direction of the town. 
It was not the shepherds, but old Abraham 


98 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

and two of his servants. As the old man 
caught sight of his flock, but saw no shep- 
herd, he raged with anger. “Dahvid!” he 
shouted fiercely. “Dahvid!” There was no 
answer. 

“The young vagabond! He has left the 
sheep. Of great worth are his promises! 
He would keep my flock. ‘Come life — 
come death!’ Dahvid! Let me once find 
him and I will give him something he will 
remember longer than he does his vows.” 

As he drew near the flock he discovered the 
boy lying on the ground. “Ah, asleep is he? 
and the sun this high! Come, get up!” he 
shouted fiercely, and lifted his staff to strike. 
But, as he did so, he caught sight of the white 
face and the bleeding arm, and noticed the 
wounded sheep. Old Abraham dropped his 
angry arm, and there was a touch of tender- 
ness that was strange to him, as he continued : 
“Ah, Dahvid, boy! You did not forget your 
promises; did you, Dahvid? And I would 
have struck you! Forgive me, my lad.” 
Then, turning to his servants, he gave them 
command: “Take him to the inn and bid 
them care for him. I, myself, will keep the 
flock today.” 


THE SHEPHERD WHO'DIDN’t GO 99 

The servants bowed low, “The inn is full, 
my lord.” 

Old Abraham commanded again positively, 
“Take him to the inn, I say.” 

“But the inn is full, my lord,” replied the 
older servant, trembling. 

Then the other servant spoke, “There is 
perhaps room in the stable, my lord.” 

“Then bear him thither, and bid them give 
him the best of care. Go at once.” 

So the servants bore Dahvid away, still 
unconscious from his wounds, and made him 
comfortable on a bed of straw in the stable 
of the inn. 

It was some hours before he came to himself. 
When at last he opened his eyes, and his ears 
began to catch once more the sounds about 
him, the first thing he heard was a faint cry. 
“What is that.^” he asked eagerly of Samuel, 
who was watching beside him. 

“That,” said the old shepherd, in tones of 
mingled joy and reverence, “is the Child the 
angels told us about, the Child we came to 
see. We found him here in the stable, in a 
manger.” 

“And I am not to see him?” 

“Yes, you are,” said Samuel, and a grave- 


100 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


faced man brought the Child and laid Him 
in Dahvid’s arms, the Child for whose coming 
the people had been longing for a thousand 
years. 


The color at length came back to Dahvid’s 
white cheeks and strength and health to his 
limbs, and he went back again to the plain. 
Old Abraham embraced him. “Forgive me, 
my son. I have been a hard master. Thou 
hast been very faithful, and for thy reward 
I make thee lord over all my flocks, and half 
of them shall be thine own.” 

So Dahvid became a man of flocks, and 
all his days he was known among the other 
shepherds as the one who had held the Christ- 
child in his arms. And there was none 
among them who was thought so brave, and 
gentle, and wise as the Shepherd Who Didn’t 
Go. 


'The House of Beautiful Days 


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The House of Beautiful 
Days 

OST boys and girls whom I 
know do not like a rainy day. 
Sometimes, of course, they 
do, especially if it be a Sun- 
day and they do not have to 
go to church, or a school-day 
if it storms hard enough so that they do not 
have to go to school. But I never saw many 
boys and girls who really enjoyed a rainy 
Saturday. And the day that I have in mind 
was a rainy Saturday, and the boy who did 
not like it was Jack Oliver. 

It had been rather a dreary day for Jack, 
and now as the afternoon wore on he was so 
restless that he did not know what to do. 
‘‘Why do rainy days come, anyway.?” he 
whined to his mother, who sat quietly sewing 
in the big, comfortable library. “I hate a 
rainy day. I wish there wasn’t a rainy day 
in the world. What can I do.?” 



103 


104 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

“Why don’t you read?” 

“I have read till my eyes ache.” 

“Then why not work at your bench?” 

“My chisel’s dull, and my mallet’s broken, 
— I broke it yesterday.” 

“Then why don’t you do a puzzle?” 

“I have done all the puzzles,” he whined 
away, “except the one that I canH 

“Well, then,” said his mother, “why don’t 
you change the weather?” 

“7’m not the weather man,” growled Jack. 

“You do not need to be. Anybody can 
change the weather, if he wants to do so and 
tries hard enough. Did I never tell you 
about it? Well, they say that if you look 
right into the face of the clock, and say: 

“ Tick, lock, old clock. 

Tell the time of day; 

Wave your hands, and strike your hell. 

And chase the rain away” 

and keep on saying it, the weather will change, 
and the rain will go away.” 

Jack pricked up his ears. 

This was something new at least. 

“Why don’t you do it?” said his mother. 

Jack thought he would, especially as his 
mother was at that moment called away, and 


HOUSE OF BEAUTIFUL DAYS 105 


he must make some shift for his own amuse- 
ment. So he gathered up a sofa pillow, threw 
himself on the floor at full length before the 
big clock, and began his rhyme. 

‘‘But do you think, mother,” he called, 
“that the weather will really change if I say 
it.^^” 

“I haven’t a doubt of it. Jack,” said his 
mother at the door, “^Jyou say it long enough'' 

It had seemed to Jack, all day, that the 
clock looked grim and sour. It was too 
solemn, with its tick-tock-tick-tock. But now 
as he looked at its white face and brass hands 
it really seemed quite friendly. So he began 
his rhyme: 

“ Tick, lock, old clock. 

Tell the time of day; 

Wave your hands, and strike your hell. 

And chase the rain away.^' 

Over and over he said it, looking up and 
out of the window now and then to see 
whether the rain was really going away. 
He was almost on the point of giving it up, 
when a marvelous thing happened. Astride 
the big ball on the pendulum, as if he were 
riding a horse, sat the j oiliest little man that 
you ever saw. On his back was a bright red 


106 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

coat, on his head a bright red cap, and on his 
face a bright broad smile, — and he rode so 
furiously back and forth that his coat tails 
stuck straight out behind, so that you could 
see. their dainty blue lining. 

Before Jack could open his eyes for a better 
look, the door of the old clock opened and out 
jumped the little man. 

“What was that I heard you saying just 
now.^ Something about ‘chase the rain away’.f^ 
Don’t you like a rainy day.^” 

“No, I hate it. I wish there never was a 
rainy day. I wish I lived where every day 
was beautiful.” 

“Well, then, come with me, and I will take 
you there.” 

“But who are you.^” asked Jack, for he 
was not accustomed to travel with strangers. 

“My name,” said the little red man, “is 
Mr. Fancy Featherfoot. I know everything 
that boys want to know, and can take them 
anywhere they wish to go. So put on your 
cap and come with me, quick, and I’ll take 
you up to the House of Beautiful Days.” 

“But how shall we get up there.^” asked 
Jack. 

“This way,” said Mr. Fancy as he took 


HOUSE OF BEAUTIFUL DAYS 107 

from his jacket pocket the daintiest little 
ladder that you ever saw. It had golden 
sides, and silver rounds between, and would 
unfold to go just as high as one wished to go. 
Mr. Fancy set it up in the corner right by 
the clock, and quick as a squirrel began to 
climb, while Jack came panting after. Right 
up through the ceiling they climbed to the 
up-stairs room, right up through that to the 
attic, right up through the attic to the roof. 
When Jack saw that they were going through 
the roof he called to his guide, “Wait a 
minute, till I get my coat.” 

“You won’t need any coat; stick this in 
your cap, and you won’t mind the weather. 
The good cheer feather 
Brings fair weather, 

Up and up and up they climbed till they 
came to a great, big, white landing which 
looked like a cloud. Jack was afraid to step 
on it for fear he would fall through, but when 
he saw Mr. Fancy walk about on it, he grew 
bold and joined him. Up a flight of beautiful 
white steps, just like the landing, they went, 
and entered the door of a magniflcent white 
house. Great white walls reached as high 
as any one could see. 


108 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

Over them was a roof of the bluest sky, and 
down from it hung a million twinkling lights 
like stars. 

‘‘This,” said the little red man, “is the 
House of Beautiful Days, and these people 
that you see everywhere about are the beauti- 
ful days.” 

Jack had never in all his life, not even at 
the circus, seen so many people, nor people 
dressed in such gay and fantastic clothes. 
As far away as he could see were these 
delightful little people and their wonderful 
clothes. I say “little people,” for they all 
seemed rather small to Jack, — and young. 

Near at hand were some that had long, 
black rubber boots on, red jackets on their 
backs, red hats on their heads, from which the 
water ran in little streams. And when they 
removed their hats, in salute, you could see 
that their hair was all covered with dew- 
drops, which also hung from the ears and the 
nose. 

“Who are these?” asked Jack. 

“These,” said Mr. Fancy, “are the beauti- 
ful rainy days. They make the pools, you 
see, the streams and the waterfalls.” 

Then here were people dressed all in gold. 


HOUSE OF BEAUTIFUL DAYS 109 


leggings of gold and jackets of gold, and they 
had sunbeams stuck this way and that in 
their hair. 

""And who are these?” asked the boy. 

""These,” was the reply, ""are the beautiful 
sunshiny days. They pick up the sunbeams 
that fall on the floor of the House of Beautiful 
Days.” 

Here were folks all clad in gray, like little 
cadets, and their gray coats and gray caps were 
bordered with red berries like holly. Their 
little faces looked serious, yet they were happy. 

""These,” said Mr. Fancy, ""are the beauti- 
ful cloudy days. They love to roll up the 
clouds and play hide-and-seek with the moon.” 

Then here were people, among the gayest of 
them all, with garments like brightest rain- 
bows. Now their faces were light and now 
again they were dark. 

""These are the beautiful showery days, 
and with their little tinkling, silver hammers 
which you hear, they make and mend the 
rainbow bridges that reach from cloud to 
cloud.” 

There was also a great number of little 
white people, white from head to toe, and in 
their hands were silver spades. 


110 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

“These,” said Mr. Fancy, “as you no doubt 
can guess, are the beautiful snowy days. 
They shovel up the snowflakes that fall 
through the roof of this House of Beautiful 
Days. And these,” he continued, as he 
pointed to a group, all stiff with daintiest lace 
up to their chins, and with icicles stuck like 
jaunty feathers in their lace-trimmed caps of 
ocean blue, “these are the beautiful frosty 
days. They love to make and climb the 
icicles that hang from the points of the 
stars.” 

Then Jack saw just one other group. Their 
hair was tossing about their merry faces. 
Ribbons streamed out behind from their 
clothes, and fluttered and flirted and flapped. 
“I suppose,” said Jack, “that these are the 
beautiful windy days.” 

“Quite right, my boy. These chase and 
catch the breezes, and let them go again.” 

Such a gay and happy multitude this boy 
had never seen in all his life, and he looked 
and looked and looked. Hand in hand, he 
and his strange guide wandered through the 
House from end to end. They looked into 
the Hall of Hourly where the beautiful hours 
dwell, and into the Hall of Minutel where the 


HOUSE OF BEAUTIFUL DAYS 111 


beautiful minutes dwell, and into the Hall of 
Secondum where the tiny seconds dwell. 

“And what is this?” asked Jack, as he 
pointed to what looked like a throne, high 
and white, and overhead a canopy of purple 
laced with gold. 

“This is the seat of the Great Father of the 
days. Once a day he sits upon it, as he comes 
to choose a new day and send it to the earth.” 

“Oh!” said Jack, “and how does he choose 
one? I’ve often wondered why we have a 
rainy day or a bright one. I suppose he 
listens and hears what the people want 
down below. If most folks want a rainy 
day, he sends one, and if most folks want 
a sunshiny day, he sends one, and just like 
that.” 

“Not at all, my boy, not at all.” 

“Then I suppose he says, ‘Eeny, meeny, 
miny, and the one that’s it, he has to 
go." 

“Not at all, my boy, not at all.” 

“Then he must just choose a day, because 
he wants to, and send it.” 

“Not at all, my boy, not at all.” 

“Then how does he do?” 

“This way! Every night just before mid- 


112 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

night the great chimes ring, and the Father 
comes out of the golden door over there, — 
listen, watch !” 

The beautiful rich chimes rang out, the 
golden door opened, and forth came the old- 
est looking man that one ever saw. His hair 
was white, what there was of it, and hung 
about his ears; his face was white; his beard 
was white, and hung down low on his long 
white robe. A great scythe hung over his 
shoulder. Little minutes acted as pages, and 
held his train as he marched straight and 
kingly toward his seat. 

“Father Time,” whispered Jack, as he 
nudged his guide. 

The little red man nodded. 

“How old is he.^” he whispered. 

“I don’t know — a hundred million years, 
if a day.” 

“How long will he live yet.^” 

“I don’t know — a hundred million years, 
if a day.” 

As the White Father stepped upon his 
throne Jack saw that all the wonderful host 
of days came forward close to the throne. 
Each knelt upon his right knee with a torch 
at his side. At a signal from the Father all 


HOUSE OF BEAUTIFUL DAYS 113 

rose and stood in respectful silence as he ad- 
dressed them: 

“My children, and my faithful subjects, 
the time draws near when another day must 
journey to the world. ’Tis a long way, and 
a difficult task. 

To every creature he must go. 

However high, however low. 

To take them time, and light, and love. 

And hear them beauty from above. 

Now what brave day this task will dare 
Shall straightway first lift torch in air.'* 

It seemed to Jack that every torch went up 
at once, and for the life of him he could not 
tell how Father Time could see which was 
first. But he could see, for his eyes were 
sharp, and he beckoned to a day far in the 
rear. 

Quietly the days fell back and made an 
aisle down which came the chosen day, — 
whether it was a rainy day or a sunshiny one 
I have forgotten, — and knelt on right knee 
before the throne, his torch burning brightly 
at his side. 

Then Father Time bound him with a great 
oath that he would be faithful and beautiful. 


114 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

He would carry ‘‘time and light and love.” 
He would help men and women to do their 
work. Then the Father commanded the 
attendants to bind on the golden wings, — 
for all beautiful days fly fast, — and he put 
into his hands a golden book and a golden 
pen. In the book he was to write all things 
good which he saw, and all things bad, all 
things good which he heard, and all things 
bad, and the Father commanded, in solemn 
tone, that when the day’s work was flnished, 
he should carry the book to the Great King 
who lives beyond the world. 

All this the beautiful day promised faith- 
fully with hand upon his heart. Then the 
bugle sounded, the new-chosen day bowed to 
the Great Father, bowed to the days, who 
bowed in turn to him, rose upon his golden 
wings, and soared away. 

The days turned quickly back to their 
work, the rainy days making the pools, the 
streams, and the waterfalls; the sunshiny 
days picking up the sunbeams that fell on 
the floor; the cloudy days rolling up the 
clouds, and playing hide-and-seek with the 
moon; the showery days making and mending 
the rainbow bridges that reached from cloud 


HOUSE OF BEAUTIFUL DAYS 115 


to cloud; the snowy days shoveling the snow 
with their silver spades; the frosty days mak- 
ing and climbing the icicles that hung from 
the points of the stars; and the windy days 
chasing and catching the breezes and letting 
them go again. 

Jack and his guide went over and sat on 
the landing and watched the beautiful day in 
its flight until it looked in the distance like 
the sunrise on a winter morning. 

Then Jack spoke. “Mr. Fancy, when will 
the beautiful day come back?” 

“It will never come back, my boy.” 

“Why not?” 

“No beautiful day ever comes back. Did 
you not hear what Father Time said to the 
day when he put into his hand the golden 
book, — that he should carry it to the Great 
Ejng who lives beyond the world?” 

“Where does the Great King live, Mr. 
Fancy?” 

“I do not know, my boy, nobody knows — 
somewhere beyond the world. But they say 
the place is very beautiful. There is a great 
white throne, and a beautiful stream and 
green trees on either side.” 

“Are there many days there?” 


116 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

“Yes, a countless number. The days that 
knew each other here meet each other again 
in that beautiful country.” 

“Are there any people there?” 

“Oh, yes! The days, as they go through 
the world, carry many with them on their 
strong wings to that land of delight.” 

How long they would have sat there no 
one can tell, had not Mr. Fancy plucked Jack 
by the sleeve. 

“But, Jack, your mother will soon wonder 
what has become of you. We must get back. 
Come, after me” — and with that he.was hop- 
ping down his ladder as nimbly as a squirrel, 
and Jack following after as fast as he could. 

D-o -w-n, d-o-w-n, d-o-w-n they went, right 
through the roof of the house and through the 
attic, and through the up -stairs room right 
into the library in the corner by the old 
clock. Mr. Fancy folded up his wonderful 
ladder and with a jolly “good-by” was about 
to be off. 

“Aren’t you coming again, Mr. Fancy 
Featherfoot?” 

“Why?” 

“Because I shall want to go again to the 
House of Beautiful Days.” 


HOUSE OF BEAUTIFUL DAYS 117 


“Well, you may go whenever you wish.” 
“But I have no ladder.” 

“You may make one for yourself. I’d give 
you this one except that I must use it myself. 
I’ll tell you how. Now — listen — ” and he 
spoke very slowly, looking Jack straight in 
the eye and holding up one finger. 

happy heart 
And a smiling face 
And some rounds of laughter between. 

That ladder will take you up any day you 
wish to gQ.” 

And with that he jumped on the ball of the 
pendulum and went riding away at a furious 
pace, around the corner of the clock. 

Then all at once it seemed to Jack as if the 
whole house fell right down on his shoulder. 
He turned quickly and saw, — that it was 
only Spike, the playful setter, that had come 
in when his mother had opened the door. 
Jack rubbed his eyes and looked around. 
The sun was shining in his face. 

“Well, Jack,” said his mother, “I guess 
you have had a nap. Look out-of-doors. 
Now do you believe that the weather will 
change if you say to the clock: 


118 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

‘ Tick, lock, old clock. 

Tell the time of day; 

Wave your hands and strike the bell 
And chase the rain away'? 

It’s a beau4iful day.” 

“All days are beautiful days, mother,” 
answered Jack. Whereat his mother opened 
her eyes so wide that I am sure she was never 
more surprised in her life. 

“Why! Jack. What do you mean.f^” 

“I haven’t time to tell you now. I prom- 
ised Bob that if it stopped raining I’d go out 
to play. I’ll tell you when I come in.” 

And he did. When he was ready for bed 
he told her all about his visitor and his trip 
to the House of Beautiful Days, and all about 
the magic ladder and how it was made, which, 
he said, was a kind of secret: 


Some 


Rounds 


of 


Laughter 


Between 


How the Bluebird was Chosen 

Herald 


I 


How the Bluebird IHas 
Chosen Herald 


TOLD you a story once about 
Query Queer and the Wise- 
and-Wonder-Man. Query 
Queer was the boy who loved 
the woods and asked so many 
questions. The Wise-and- 
Wonder-Man was the spirit of the woods 
whom Query met one day and who answered 
Query’s questions. Of course, as Query often 
went to the woods it was quite certain that 
he should sometime meet the spirit again. 
And so he did. It happened one day just as 
the snow was disappearing and the sun was 
growing warm. Query had been taking his 
first spring walk, and, as he was a bit tired, 
he sat down on the sunny slope of a knoll. 
He was scarcely seated when down out of the 
green boughs of a hemlock tree in front of 
him slid the Wise-and- Wonder-Man, dressed 
in his light blue suit with every button a 



122 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


silver bell, and his pointed cap to match, 
with its fringe of silver bells. At every move 
he made, the bells went tinkle-tankle, tinkle- 
tankle. Query was so surprised that he almost 
forgot to breathe. 

“Good morning. Query,” said the Wise- 
and-Wonder-Man, “what are you wondering 
about now.^” 

“I was just wondering,” said Query, nod- 
ding his head toward a bluebird near by, 
“why the bluebird is the first bird of spring.” 

“Why, he is the herald, you know.” 

“But how did he come to be the herald.^ 
Do you know.^” 

“I have heard,” said the Wise-and-Wonder- 
Man. 

“Who told you.^"” 

“My grandmother. She said her grand- 
mother’s grandmother’s grandmother told the 
story; and what her grandmother’s grand- 
mother’s grandmother said, my grandmother 
says is so.” 

“Of course,” said Query. “Would you tell 
me the story 

“Certainly; make yourself comfortable.” 

Query lay down on one elbow and the 
Wise-and-Wonder-Man sat on a fresh, clean 


BLUEBIRD WAS CHOSEN HERALD 123 

chip, that the choppers had made, and 
talked: 

You know there are four spirits of the year. 
Springtime, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. 
Some folks call them seasons, but they are 
really spirits. Of all four spirits Springtime 
is the favorite. He had been coming to the 
earth every year for a great many years, year 
after year, when he got it into his head that 
it would be a fine thing and quite becoming 
to his dignity to have a herald, — some one 
to carry his colors and play the fife. At first 
he thought of the fragrant fiowers, they could 
bear his colors. But he reflected that they 
could not play the fife. Then he thought of 
the buzzing bee, he might be taught to play 
the fife. But he remembered that he would 
not do, because he could not carry the colors. 
So he decided that he must have a bird. 

Springtime, being a very lively and prac- 
tical spirit, called the birds together that very 
morning. He asked them all to meet him by 
the Great Rock under the Great Tree by the 
Great Bend of the Big River. They all came 
— birds of every size and color and descrip- 
tion. He sat on the Great Rock while the 
birds sat on the grass and listened with wide, 


124 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

round, blinking eyes and with heads cocked 
to one side. 

He made a speech to them of some length. 
He told them that he desired a herald to 
carry his colors and to play the fife. Of 
course, the bird to be chosen should be hand- 
some and musical. But he must be more than 
all that. He wanted a bird of exceptionally 
good character, in fact, the very best bird 
that could be found. He did not expect to 
find a perfect bird, he said, but he desired a 
bird as nearly perfect as he could obtain. He 
concluded his speech by saying that his 
herald should be: 

Both handsome and happy ^ gifted and good. 

And as modest as modest can he. 

The very best bird that flies in the wood, 

I would that my herald be he.'* 

The choice, he said, he would leave to the 
birds as they knew each other thoroughly. 

The birds put their heads together and 
talked in at least forty different languages. 
Finally, their spokesman told Springtime that 
they were content to leave the selection to a 
committee of six whom he might name. As 
Springtime wanted to be on good terms with 


j 


BLUEBIRD WAS CHOSEN HERALD 125 

all the birds, he thought it not best that he 
should appoint the committee. He pulled a 
handful of grass and held it tightly between 
his hands just so that the ends would stick 
out, and then he asked the birds to come up, 
one by one, and pull out a blade. The six 
who should draw out the shortest blades of 
grass were to be the committee. 

They walked up one by one, and drew. 
Mr. Crow drew the shortest blade and so was 
the chairman. Mr. Parrot came next, then 
Mr. Blue Jay, Mr. Robin, Mr. English Spar- 
row, and Mr. Bluebird. It was a strange 
committee, to be sure, of all sizes and kinds 
of birds. 

That very evening the six birds met in a 
corner of Mr. Farmer’s orchard upon a dead 
branch of an old apple tree. They talked and 
talked and talked. They discussed all the 
birds that they knew, spoke of their good 
qualities and their bad ones. 

At last, as it grew late, very late, almost 
eight o’clock, and they had come to no con- 
clusion, Mr. Bluebird proposed that they 
should vote, and all agreed. But how should 
they vote.^ That was the next question. 
Mr. Bluebird suggested that each one, as his 


126 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

name was called, should stand up and say 
which bird he thought was best fitted to be 
the herald. Mr. Crow cleared his throat and 
said that he did not think this was the wisest 
way. He thought it better, he continued, 
that each one should write the name of his 
choice on the under side of a leaf. The other 
members of the committee agreed with Mr. 
Crow. Each bird, therefore, took a leaf, and 
wrote a name upon it, and Mr. Bluebird 
counted the votes. There was one vote for 
Mr. Crow, one vote for Mr. Parrot, one for 
Mr. Blue Jay, one for Mr. Robin, one for Mr. 
English Sparrow, and one for — I don’t re- 
member whether it was for Mr. Song Sparrow 
or Mr. Bobolink. Would you believe it? — 
every bird except the bluebird had voted for 
himself. The bluebird knew, because he 
knew the foot-writing of all the birds. He 
had seen it in the soft sand down by the water. 

It was certain that they were not going to 
be able to decide among themselves who 
should be chosen, so Mr. Bluebird made 
another suggestion. 

“I recommend,” he said, ‘‘that we go and 
consult the old Wizard, Mr. Owl, who holds 
court every night by the light of the moon 


BLUEBIRD WAS CHOSEN HERALD 127 

in the hollow of a great gray tree over the 
ridge. He is the wisest of birds and knows 
everything. I have heard, too, that whenever 
there is a star with a tail in the sky he can 
read your fortunes and your character. Now 
it so happens that at this very time there is 
in the sky a star with a tail, for I saw it this 
morning. Little Bluey, my eldest child, woke 
up very early and I had to fly out to get him 
a worm to keep him quiet. Just as I was 
starting, long before sunrise, I saw the comet. 
I propose that we go at once and consult the 
Wizard and let him decide for us who should 
be the herald.” 

“It seems to me,” said the crow, “that this 
is a most excellent suggestion. The Wizard 
is certainly a very wise bird. I have heard of 
him and doubtless he has heard of me. By 
all means, let us go.” 

It was decided then and there that they 
should go that very night, just as soon as the 
comet rose. Mr. Bluebird was to give the sig- 
nal because he knew where to look for the 
comet. 

At the proper moment Mr. Bluebird shook 
them all by the wing and woke them up, and 
they started, Mr. Crow going first, then Mr. 


128 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

Parrot, Mr. Blue Jay, Mr. Robin, Mr. Eng- 
lish Sparrow, and Mr. Bluebird. 

They flew and they flew and they flew, for 
it was a long way and a hard way to And, and 
not one of the six had ever been out so late 
in his life. When they reached the wood they 
were obliged to fly very carefully, so that 
they should not bump their heads against 
the trees, and so that they might be able to 
read the signs along the way. At length 
they spied a great gray tree, with a dimly 
lighted window in it, far up the trunk. Mr. 
Crow read the name on the door-plate 
and announced that they had reached the 
right house. There was no door-bell so 
Mr. Crow scratched three times, — scratch, 
scratch, scratch. 

“Who-who.^” came from within. 

‘‘Friends,” said the crow, “six friends come 
to consult the Wizard.” 

The latch was promptly lifted, and the 
six birds walked solemnly in and up the 
stairs. 

They found themselves in a little dark 
round room with seats against the sides. 
Mr. Owl sat over on one side, his great 
fluffy coat turned up at the neck and his 


BLUEBIRD WAS CHOSEN HERALD 129 

fluffy hood pulled down to meet it. He had 
his spectacles on and was reading by the 
light of his lamp, — that is, it looked like a 
lamp, but Mr. Owl explained later that it was 
not a lamp but the comet’s light which he 
caught through a knot-hole. 

The Wizard received them pleasantly and 
motioned to them to be seated. Mr. Crow 
sat down in front of the Wizard at his right, 
then the others in order, Mr. Bluebird sitting 
at the left. 

‘Tt is very late,” observed the owl. ‘Tt 
must be most important business that brings 
you to me at this hour of the night.” 

“It is,” replied the crow, “exceedingly im- 
portant business, indeed.” 

Then in plain and emphatic words he told 
the Wizard what their errand was. He re- 
peated as nearly as he could the speech of 
Springtime, especially the last words: 

** Both handsome and happy, gifted and good, 

And as modest as modest can he. 

The very best bird that flies in the wood, 

I would that my herald be he.'* 

He told the Wizard of their inability to 
decide who should be chosen and of their 


130 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

conclusion to leave the choice to him. This 
was the reason of their visit. 

Then the owl looked grave as a judge and 
remarked, ‘Tt seems to me in this situation 
that the first thing to be done is to secure the 
opinion of each of you as to who is the fittest 
bird to be chosen. Mr. Crow, will you be so 
good as to give us your opinion?” 

Mr. Crow stood up, cleared his throat, 
and said, “To speak quite frankly, it seems 
to me that I, myself, should be chosen. It 
is scarcely possible to find a better bird.” 

“What makes you think so?” asked the 
owl dryly. 

“My wife,” said the crow. ‘‘Only today 
Mrs. Crow said to me, ‘Mr. Crow, my dear 
husband, you are a perfect man, unless ’ ” 

“Unless what?” inquired the Wizard, rais- 
ing his eyebrows. 

“I don’t recollect,” replied the crow, “in 
fact, I didn’t hear distinctly, but I am sure 
it was something unimportant,” and he sat 
down. 

“Mr. Parrot,” said the Wizard, “your 
opinion, if you please.” 

“It is my opinion,” said Mr. Parrot, “that 
I am the bird who should be chosen. I have 


BLUEBIRD WAS CHOSEN HERALD 131 

heard myself talk on many an occasion, and 
I am sure that I speak both wisdom and wit. 
In modesty, I forbear to say more.” 

‘‘Mr. Blue Jay!” called the Wizard. 

“Since you ask me, Mr. Wizard, for my 
honest opinion, I am bound to say that I feel 
that I am the only bird for this position. I 
have been looking in the glass today; in fact, 
I see myself in the glass very often, and I 
have never yet observed a single fault in 
myself. There is no bird who can say more.” 

“Mr. Robin, if you please.” 

Mr. Robin arose with his fingers in his 
armholes: “I am quite convinced, Mr. Wiz- 
ard, from much observation, that I should 
be made the herald. I am handsome and 
gifted, if I do say it myself. Besides, I live 
in the best of society; I dwell in the Bishop’s 
orchard. This very day I heard the Bishop 
say, ‘That robin is a fine, handsome bird, — 
as fine and handsome as a Bishop.’ I am 
sure that recommendation is enough.” 

“Mr. English Sparrow!” 

“I am sure, Mr. Wizard,” said the sparrow, 
speaking very rapidly and excitedly, “that 
while I am not so big as some of these who 
have spoken, I have a better claim than any 


132 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

of them to this high oflSce. For I have long 
made it a practice to study carefully the 
faults and weaknesses of all the other birds, 
and I know that I have none of their failings.” 

‘'Mr. Bluebird,” said the Wizard, “what 
have you to say.^” 

“Nothing, Mr. Wizard. I have not made 
up my mind. I leave the matter entirely to 
your eminent wisdom and judgment.” And 
he sat down. 

“Well,” said the owl, after a moment’s 
deliberation, “the next thing to do under 
these circumstances seems to be to read your 
fortunes, that is, your characters, in the light 
of the comet. I shall ask you, one by one, 
to step up on this judgment-seat at my 
left, where the light of the comet can fall on 
you and where I can see you plainly. Mr. 
Crow, will you be the first 

Mr. Crow stepped up to the judgment-seat 
very confidently, while the Wizard put on his 
spectacles and turned the lamp so that the 
light fell full upon the glossy feathers of the 
large black bird. It was a revolving seat, 
which the Wizard turned round and round 
slowly so that he could see all sides of the 
bird. “A fine bird,” he said, very deliber- 


BLUEBIRD WAS CHOSEN HERALD 133 

ately, as if thinking aloud, ‘‘a perfect bird, 
unless — unless what? — let me see — ah, a 
slant in the left eye — in both eyes — a very 
decided slant — very sly — very cunning — 
inclined to steal — very much inclined to 
steal — a thief, in fact; steals Mr. Farmer’s 
corn and peas — especially in the early morn- 
ing when nobody is around — a very bad 
fault — one of the worst. I am quite sure, 
Mr. Crow, that Springtime would not choose 
you for his herald, — he could not trust you. 
That will do. Mr. Parrot!” 

Mr. Parrot walked up very sedately and 
took his place on the judgment-seat. The 
Wizard gazed at him gravely and stroked his 
back. “Fine feathers — green, red, yellow, 
— fine feathers, — rather small head — large 
tongue — large tongue, small head — talks 
more than he thinks — talks very much more 
than he thinks — talks often without think- 
ing — says what he hears others say. Tongue 
rather harsh, too — and blisters at the end — 
bad words! bad words! I am sorry to say, 
Mr. Parrot, that I cannot recommend you as 
herald. People would not be glad to see you 
year after year. That will do. Mr. Blue 
Jay!” 


134 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

The blue jay stepped up very jauntily and 
took the seat. 

The Wizard looked at him admiringly, for 
he was clad in a beautiful tailor-made suit 
that fitted him to perfection. “A handsome 
bird,” he said, ‘‘a handsome bird, — that is, 
handsome clothes. Eye very good, too — a 
little slant, a little slant — but on the whole a 
good eye. Let me see, what is this on the 
back of the head.^ — these long feathers — ? 
oh, a crest! I see. Just for decoration. A 
vain bird, vain as a peacock — and like all 
vain people hard to get along with — and 
very unfriendly — likes to flock alone — other 
folks not quite good enough. I regret to 
inform you, Mr. Blue Jay, that Springtime 
would not desire you as his herald. That will 
do. Mr. Robin!” 

The robin hopped up on the seat in his 
fine dress suit and red shirt-front, his chest 
inflated and his eyes shining. The Wizard 
looked at him intently for some time, then he 
began, “You are the Bishop’s friend, you say. 
Let me see — a bright red spot on your bill 
— the Bishop’s cherries, I should say — but 
we’ll let that pass. Eye very suspicious — 
very suspicious — trusts nobody — always 


BLUEBIRD WAS CHOSEN HERALD 135 

looking, even among your best friends, to see 
if somebody isn’t going to harm you — cannot 
pull a worm out of the Bishop’s garden with- 
out looking around suspiciously all the time. 
A very unhappy frame of mind to be in — 
unhappy for you — unhappy for others. You 
would hardly do for the herald. That will 
do. Mr. English Sparrow!” 

The English sparrow fluttered up noisily 
and took his place. “You say,” began the 
Wizard, “that you have not the faults of the 
other birds.” 

“Yes,” said the sparrow, talking very fast, 
“I am not as mean as that black thief, and I 
don’t talk such nonsense as old Polly, and 
I’m not so stuck up as the jay, and I am not 
suspicious like the Bishop’s friend. I haven’t 
any of the faults of the other birds.” 

The Wizard pushed his spectacles up on 
his brow, turned the light away, and looked 
at him. “I see,” he said, “I do not need 
the comet light at all. I could see you in 
the dark. Sharp bill — sharp tongue — sharp 
claws — in a continual state of bad temper — 
very quarrelsome — very unpleasant neigh- 
bor; in fact, a common nuisance. That will 
do. Mr. Bluebird!” 


136 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

“I am sure, Mr. Owl,” said the bluebird, 
rising, “that I need not take your time. I 
am not the bird to be chosen, for I know that 
I am far from being a perfect bird. I have 
many faults. There are many nobler birds 
than I from whom Springtime may choose 
his herald.” 

But the Wizard was quite insistent that the 
bluebird should come forward where he could 
read his fortune. 

“You say that you have many faults,” 
remarked the Owl. “That may be, but I 
see by the light of the comet that they are 
small, very faint indeed. Besides, the ability 
to see one’s faults and the desire to correct 
them is the greatest of virtues. There may 
be better birds, but I am frank to say that I 
am not acquainted with them. I have no 
hesitation, Mr. Bluebird, in saying that it is 
my judgment that you should be the herald 
of the Spring, for, if you will permit me to 
say it, it seems that you are 

* Both handsome and happy, gifted and good. 

And as modest as modest can 

whereat Mr. Bluebird blushed painfully, while 
in his heart he was very happy. 


BLUEBIRD WAS CHOSEN HERALD 137 


Springtime agreed with Mr. Owl, and posted 
notices on every tree by the water’s edge that 
Mr. Bluebird should henceforth be his herald, 
the first bird of the spring. 

“There is one now on the branch of that 
old tree,” said the Wise-and-Wonder-Man. 
“He is carrying the colors and playing the 
fife.” 

“What is he saying?” asked Query. 

“Well,” said the Wise-and-Wonder-Man, 
“it always sounds to me as if he were saying, 
‘Pur-i-ty, pur-i-ty,’ but I asked him one day 
and he said it was only, ‘ Spring-is-here, 
spring-is-here.’ ” 



'The City that Never was 

Reached 


% 


The City that Never 
was Reached 


INCH was over and Ernest 
and his mother sat by the 
library table, reading, as they 
were accustomed to do each 
afternoon. Sometimes Ernest 
read from his book while his 
mother read from hers. Sometimes she read 
to him from his book while he listened with 
big eyes, and sometimes he asked her to read 
to him from her book, for even if he could not 
understand it all he loved the sound of the 
big words, and the swing of the poetry. Both 
had been reading quietly for some time this 
afternoon when Ernest looked up and rubbed 
his eyes. 

‘'Mother, read to me out of your book, 
won’t you, please 

“I am afraid you will not understand it, 
my son; it is rather difficult.” 

141 




142 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

“Oh, yes, I will, mother.’’ 

So she read aloud: 

“ A city throned upon the height behold. 

Wherein no foot of man as yet has trod; 

The City of Man’s Life fulfilled in God. 

Bathed all in light, with open gates of gold. 
Perfect the City is in tower and street; 

And there a palace for each mortal waits. 
Complete and perfect, at whose outer gates 
An angel stands its occupant to greet.” 

“What city is that, mother 
“The City of Life, my son.” 

“Have you ever been there, mother.^” 
“No, my boy.” 

“Why not?” 

“I have never been able to find the way.” 
“Have you tried to find it?” 

“Yes, my boy, I think I have.” 

“Has father ever been there?” 

“No, not all the way to the City.” 

“Has he tried to find the way?” 

“Yes, I know he has tried hard to find it.” 
“Is it very far away, mother?” 

“Yes, my son, it is a long way to the City. ” 
“Which road do you take?” 

“They say it is a very straight road, but 
just where it is, it is hard to tell.” 


CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 143 

‘‘Do you think I can ever reach the City?” 

“I hope so; there is nothing that I hope 
for so much in all the world.” 

“Could I start today? Or am I too little?” 

“No, one is never too young. You may 
start any day.” 

Just then the door-bell rang, and she could 
not stay to explain to Ernest what she meant 
by saying that he could start today. She 
became so busily engaged with her caller that 
she did not notice that the boy put on his 
coat and cap with great care and started out. 

He did not know just where to go. The 
City was a long way, his mother had said, 
and the road was straight. So the way must 
be the long street that ran through the center 
of the town, which he had heard folks say ran 
out ever and ever so far. At any rate that 
seemed most likely. 

On and on he walked between the rows of 
houses. He began to read the street signs, 
for surely he would soon find one that said: 
TO THE CITY OF LIFE. But he found no such 
sign. 

Here were some boys; they would know 
the way to the City, for boys know all the 
streets. 


144 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


"‘What is the way to the City of Life?” he 
inquired rather uncertainly of them as they 
came tearing along the street. But they 
never stopped. One or two of them looked 
at him curiously over the shoulder to see who 
it was who had spoken, but that was all. 

Here was a man coming down the street. 
He would know, for he looked as if he knew 
everything. 

“Please, sir, can you tell me the way to the 
City of Life?” asked our young traveler with 
his hand to his cap. 

“To what?” asked the man, as he paused 
for an instant. Then with a twinkle in his 
eye as much as tg say, “This isn’t All Fool’s 
Day, but I have heard boys ask joking ques- 
tions before,” he walked quickly along. 

Ernest was almost discouraged. Why did 
the man smile like that? Did he misunder- 
stand him? Perhaps he didn’t like boys. 

Well, here was an old man, he would be 
kind and would surely know the way. So 
Ernest stepped up before him with his cap 
in his hand, made his politest bow and ven- 
tured again to ask: 

“Please, sir, can you tell me the way to the 
City of Life?” 


CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 145 

“To wh-a-t?” asked the old man slowly as 
he looked earnestly into the face of the boy. 

“To the City of Life. I’m trying to find 
it. Mother says it’s a long way, and I’ve 
come a long way now, so I must be near the 
City. Can you tell me the way.^^” 

“No, my boy, I cannot,” said the old man 
seriously. 

“Have you never been there.^” 

“No, never,” replied the old man. 

“Why not.?” 

“Well, somehow I have never been able to 
find the way.” 

“Have you tried.?” 

“Yes, some.” 

“Do you think the City is near here.?” 
asked Ernest eagerly. 

“I am afraid it is quite a journey farther, 
niy boy, though I have heard some say that 
it is not so very far away.” 

“Do you think I can find the way?” 

“I hope so, my boy; I think you can if you 
look long enough.” 

He was about to explain what he meant, 
when Ernest, with a quick “Thank you,” 
turned and resumed his journey down the long 
street. He walked and walked and walked 


146 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

until the houses began to grow fewer and the 
lawns bigger and greener. He was almost 
ready to turn back and give up his search when 
the street brought him to a little hill, on top 
of which was the biggest house that he had 
ever seen. It was surrounded with trees, and 
in front of it was the greenest of lawns dotted 
with the gayest of flowers. But perhaps it 
wasn’t a house after aU; perhaps it was the 
City; it looked like it to Ernest. The City 
was on a hill, his mother had read that. 
“Bathed all in light,” — yes, the beautiful 
white building fairly glistened in the sun- 
light. “With open gates of gold” — he re- 
membered that, too; and here were gates, 
sure enough, right before him, shining and 
yellow like gold, and they were open. And 
there was somebody at the gates, too, in flne 
uniform — maybe he was the angel whom his 
mother had read about, who was there to 
greet all who came. There were towers, — 
and a beautiful street, — and — everything. 
Yes, Ernest was sure that he had reached the 
City of Life at last. How happy his mother 
would be that he had found it! He would go 
in and look around and then he would go 
home and tell her all about it. But his legs 


CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 147 

were so tired that he would lie down just a 
minute here under a great tree not far from 
the gate, and rest a little. 

Then a marvelous thing happened. In just 
a moment he was completely rested and got 
up. Everything had changed. Instead of 
that hill which he was going to climb, there 
was a beautiful level street, white as silver, 
and the curbstones were yellow gold. The 
street was full of people and Ernest found 
himself among them, running swiftly and 
never growing tired or out of breath. How 
long he ran he did not know, when he 
found himself on a long white platform that 
stretched away as far as his eye could see, 
to the right and the left. Beside this plat- 
form were miles and miles of the most beauti- 
ful track he had ever imagined, its shining 
rails laid in beds of flowers. And there was a 
guide-board there with a gleaming hand upon 
it, pointing to the words: to the city of 

LIFE. 

Ernest looked around; he was all alone. 
What was he to do.^^ At just that moment a 
noble man appeared, in spotless uniform of 
white, and upon his cap were the words: 
KEEPER OF THE TRACK AND GUIDE TO THE 


148 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

CITY OF LIFE. Emest, with his cap in his 
hand, stepped up to him without the least bit 
of fear, for his face was kind. 

“Please, sir,” he said, “how can I get to 
the City.^” 

“Why, take the train,” said the Guide. 

“When does one come.^” asked the boy. 

“Oh, in a moment; trains are always 
coming.” 

“But who will stop it? I see no station.” 

“ You must stop it. Every passenger stops 
the train for himself. Did you never hear 
that? All you have to do is to wave your 
hand, — like this, — and the train will stop.” 

At that moment a great train appeared 
with many cars. What wonderful cars they 
were! They had silver sides, and roofs of 
blue, and windows that sparkled like dia- 
monds. Ernest waved his hand the way the 
Guide had shown him and, sure enough, the 
train stopped and the boy got aboard. 

Ernest was lost in wonder at the beauty of 
the car, which was as magnificent inside as it 
was outside, — gold and silver and blue, blue 
and silver and gold. And what a lot of people 
there were on the train! All kinds of people! 
There was every kind of folk that Ernest had 


CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 149 

ever seen, every kind of strange people that 
he had ever seen, even in pictures. There 
were rich and poor, high and low, — Ernest 
could tell by their clothes. And that was the 
only way that he knew, for everybody on 
board this train seemed friend to everybody 
else. Each passenger had a whole seat to 
himself, and yet it did not seem to trouble 
him to share his seat with others. In fact, 
each seemed happier if he could share his 
seat with some one else. 

The train whirled along at full speed. 
Ernest was so interested in everything he saw 
that he scarcely had a thought of where he 
was going or what he was doing until he saw 
the conductor coming slowly down the aisle. 
The strange thing about this conductor was 
that he did not seem to be punching any 
tickets or taking any money. Ernest could 
not understand this. Perhaps they had all 
paid. And, yet, this could scarcely be, for 
there were surely some who had come aboard 
since the train stopped for him. Yet the 
conductor took no money even from these. 
Instead, he paused a moment as he came to 
them, looked at them earnestly and kindly, 
and passed by. It was all a very mysterious 


150 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 


proceeding. They must, thought Ernest, have 
made some arrangement with the conductor 
before they came aboard so that they did not 
need to pay anything here. But he had made 
no such arrangement. What should he do.^ 
He had only five cents in his pocket, which 
his father had given to him that morning for 
spending-money. He was afraid that would 
not be money enough to carry him to the 
City, and yet he remembered that once he 
had ridden ever so far on the trolley-car for 
five cents. At any rate it was all he had. 

As the conductor came slowly up to the 
seat where Ernest sat, the young traveler 
timidly held out his five-cent piece. 

“What is that for.^^” asked the conductor. 

“My fare,” replied Ernest. 

The conductor shook his head. 

“That is not enough,” said he. 

“But it is all I have,” said Ernest. “My 
father has a lot of money at home and I 
know he will pay you if you let me stay.” 

“Your father has not money enough, my 
boy, to pay your fare on this train.” 

“But I want so much to go to the City!” 
pleaded Ernest. “Won’t you please let me 
go, conductor.f^ I’ll be very good.” 


CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 151 

“Then of course you may go,” replied the 
conductor. “One doesn’t pay with money 
upon this train. It is what you are that pays, 
and you travel as far as you can pay. Don’t 
you hear what the car wheels are saying.^” 

“I hear the wheels,” said Ernest, “but I 
do not hear them saying anything unless it 
is : ‘ Hurry — hurry — hurry — hurry. ’ ’ ’ 

“Then listen again, sharply.” 

Ernest listened and sure enough they were 
saying something. He could understand a 
word now and then. Pretty soon he heard it 
all. It was a rhyme or a song, and it ran like 
this: 

** Hurry, hurry, hurry, hasten 
Toward the City that stands on high. 

Faster, faster, ever faster. 

Round and round the car wheels fly. 

Car fare, car fare, pay your car fare. 

If you^d reach the City wall; 

What your heart is, is the car fare. 

What your heart is, — that is all.^^ 

Then Ernest understood. He knew now 
why the conductor had not punched any 
tickets or asked for any money. And he 
knew why the train had stopped now and 
then and some had got off, and why others 
had stayed on board. He fell to wondering 


152 CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 

how long the conductor would allow him 
to stay. Should he reach the City.? He 
began to look out of the window anxiously. 
At length some beautiful buildings flashed by 
the window and Ernest was quite sure that 
they were drawing near to the City. 

At just that minute there came a fearful 
shock. The train must have struck some- 
thing! The roof of the car crashed down 
and the sides of the car crashed in, the 
glass crashed, the timbers crashed, everything 
crashed. Ernest threw his arms out wildly, 
threw them around a great timber that 
seemed to be coming down on top of him — 
and then he opened his eyes, — and it wasn't 
timber at all, but a policeman’s neck, and the 
policeman looked like the man whom he had 
seen standing by the great gate, and who he 
thought might be an angel. 

“Well,” said the policeman, “what’s the 
matter?” 

“I don’t know,” replied Ernest with con- 
fusion. “I think there has been an accident.” 

“And 1 think you have been asleep,” said 
the policeman. “Where do you live? And 
what is your name?” And a great many 
more questions he asked. 


CITY THAT NEVER WAS REACHED 153 

It was not long before Ernest was home 
again, and in the arms of a very happy mother, 
who had begun to fear that something dread- 
ful had happened to him. 

As she tucked him into bed that night she 
explained to him that he must never, never 
go so far alone until he became much bigger. 
She told him, too, that the City of Life was 
not made of houses like the one in which 
they lived, and that the streets that lead to 
it are not the out-door streets that we walk 
on. Ernest lay quiet and thoughtful for a 
moment, then looked up and said: 

“I am very sorry that the train was wrecked 
before we reached the City. Do you think 
I shall ever reach the City.^” 

“I hope so, my son, with all my heart. If 
you remember and do what the train said, I 
am quite sure you will: 

‘ Car fare^ car fare, pay your car fare, 

If you^d reach the City wall. 

What your heart is, is the car fare. 

What your heart is, — that is all.*** 

Then Ernest fell asleep and dreamed again; 
but what he dreamed I shall have to tell you 
some other time. 




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